


In My Dreams

by Amythesica



Series: In My Dreams [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aether Magic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus, Beware of large trunks, Blood Magic, But there are reasons, Character Bashing, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark Core types, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Dark!Harry, Diary Horcrux, Different Types Of Magic, Don't Post To Another Site, Eventual violence, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Fifth Year, Fluff, Fourth Year, Friends to Lovers, Girl Who Lived, Gray Harry, Hand-To-Hand Combat, Healing Magic, I meant angst with a side of fluff, Legilimency, Light Core types, Magic, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, More tags to be added, Neutral Core types, Nicknames, Non-Graphic Child Abuse, Non-canonical magic, Not Beta Read, OOC Tom Riddle, Occlumency, Possessive Tom Riddle, Protective Tom Riddle, Protective malfoys, Sane Tom Riddle, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Seventh year, Slytherin Harry Potter, Stupidly Big trunks, The Malfoy patriarchs are Peacocks, The Third Task, Time Skips, Time Travel, You Have Been Warned, You finally see Eden's sadistic side come out and play, and pissing Tom off, eventually, first year, it's fluff with a side of angst from here on out kids, kind of, painful jokes, sixth year, so many nicknames, sorry., water breathing, wrong bwl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 245,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amythesica/pseuds/Amythesica
Summary: "I'm not going to hurt you." He sounded almost offended. "Can you tell me what day it is, Eden?""Thursday, September 19.""You got the date right, but it's Friday.""No it's not...""Eden, can you tell me what year it is?"She frowned at him, her left brow furrowed. "Why don't you tell me what year it is?"He smirked almost unwillingly. "Alright. The year is 1941."-----Noah Eden Potter is the twin sister of Leif James Potter. She knew her life wasn't normal. Knew that being locked in the attic of an Ancestral Home for days on end with no food, and having it become her bedroom wasn't normal. Even dangerous. She couldn't do much to stop it though.The first time that Eden realizes that she herself isn't normal, is when she sleeps. When she's finally away from home, and where she is safe and loved.When she sleeps, she finally knows peace.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The first thing you should know is that while I have this entire thing planned out to a stupid extent, and even have about a third of it written, the posts will not be often. I plan on every two weeks, because of the way I edit stuff...and real life. I hope you like it, and continue to read it. It's probably the most in depth, researched, and thought out story/book/fic thing I have ever done.
> 
> EDIT 8/28/2019: I completely forgot to mention that this was inspired by Once Upon a Dream by Everlovingdeer over on FF.net. Go check it out, they're an amazing writer, and I definitely recommend their stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm editing this right now, so if you're reading and you see Harry instead of Leif, that's why.

_Tuesday, July 31, 1980_

_ St. Mungo’s Maternity Ward_

Pained Screams filled the frantic hospital room as the fiery red haired woman pushed the second child out of her womb. The first child was screaming as a medi-witch cleaned him and made sure he was healthy. All the baby wanted was to be back with his womb-mate.

Soon another, final, set of screams joined in the ordered chaos as the new mother’s own cries died. “It’s a girl!” the healer called out with a wide, happy grin on her face. She quickly cleaned the baby and did her own checks on both infants.

“What?” the mother protested, “All of the scans and tests said they were both boys!”

The healer responded as she waved her wand and the naked babies were swaddled in unimaginably soft fabric, “Muggles can make those kinds of mistakes, dear.” The unspoken words were clear to the new parents along with the delicate disdain in the young woman’s voice.

_You should have come to us; your own kind._

“We didn’t even _consider_ any girl names,” she moaned tiredly as she was handed her son and daughter. All frustrations and stress left as she gazed down on the innocent children and her heart filled with love. She looked to her son and stroked his soft cheek as he latched onto her breast and began to feed. Her husband sat down next to her and did the same to their daughter as she latched onto the remaining nipple.

Merlin, they had a _daughter_.

As she gazed into her son’s hazel eyes, she told him his name. Magic sealed it as she did so, and the name burrowed deep into his Core. “Leif James Potter.”

She turned her loving gaze to her daughter and thought for a moment. They had considered many names, most distinctly male, and only a few that were androgynous. They had decided on two however, and both parents had grown insanely attached to the names.

It was supposed to be Leif and Noah, together forever.

Would Norah work?

No.

Definitely _not_.

“James, darling, do you think Noah could be a girl’s name?”

“I don’t see as to why not,” he said after a moment of thought hazed over by the fact that his _children_—_his_ _children_—were finally in the world and so close and in his arms as he held them and his wife.

“Evan can’t be her middle name though,” the mother—Lily—insisted.

“I agree.”

The two were silent as they both pondered what her name could be. Lily stared into her daughter’s now open eyes, and was shocked at the bright vibrant green color that reminded her of vibrant trees in the dead of summer. “Would Eden work?”

Yes, the eyes of the Garden of Eden.

“Noah Eden…. I like it. It’s perfect,” he added as he got a glimpse of her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the side of his wife’s head.

Lily closed her eyes for a moment as she fought off the fatigue from the long labor. They soon fluttered open and she gazed into her daughter’s viridian eyes and told her her name. Magic sealed it and it burrowed deep into her powerful Core, and would stay there until she married. “Noah Eden Potter.”

James grinned as the magical ritual finished and placed a kiss first upon his wife’s head, and then to each of his children’s heads as they finished feeding.

“Leif James Potter and Noah Eden Potter. Together forever, until the end of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to say this now, for those who it bothers to the point of anger and frustration. At the end of the book (The last three or four chapters--I don't remember the exact number) THERE WILL BE PREGNANCY! I will not be saying this again.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, there will also be mentions of abuse, and like the tags say, there will eventually be graphic violence. I don't focus on the abuse because that's not what this is about, and I don't want to focus on the negatives of Eden's life.


	2. 1 The Beginning of Happiness (and Woe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A phrase not make sense just because I changed Leif's name from Harry and I can't figure out how to change it because it's 6 in the morning and I've had little sleep.

_Friday, October 31, 1981_

_ Potter Cottage, Godric’s Hollow_

James and Lily collapsed heavily onto the slightly worn couch. Both were desperately exhausted from a day of caring for two twin toddlers.

While the two weren’t as difficult as many toddlers their age, there were still two of them. A single baby was hard enough for new parents, even if they were as well behaved as their two precious angels.

“Was it me, or has Noah been more fussy than usual?” James asked after a moment of much needed silence. Both of their children were quiet, and only really cried when they were either extremely tired, hungry, or happened to get injured.

“She started cutting another tooth yesterday. I think Leif is going to start cutting another one soon as well. They’re very close when it comes to things like that,” the exhausted mother explained.

James smirked and draped his arm around his wife. “You’d think they’re twins or something.”

Lily snorted and leaned into her husband and breathed in his musky scent. Oh, how she loved him. How she loved her children.

_Nothing_ could make her love them any less.

She pressed her hand to the developing life in her abdomen and smiled at the feel of the Light Core that developed alongside her own. It was _so_ very similar to her older siblings.

The two young adults were halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness when the front door opened with a deafening crack. The two were quickly awake and on other feet and headed towards the door. Had Sirius decided to come visit them? They paused only slightly when they saw the man standing there, tall, dark, and domineering while his robes floated around him in sinister waves. His face was covered by a hood, but they saw his eyes as they glowed red.

“Lily, go to the children, I’ll hold him off,” James insisted as his auror training kicked in.

Lily did as commanded and raced up the steps and into the twin’s nursery as her heart pounded painfully in her chest. She closed and locked the door behind her and pushed the heavy dresser in front of the door and placed a sticking charm on it. She then moved to Noah’s crib as she intended to move her into her elder brother’s crib so they could be together and try and protect each other.

And if not protect, comfort.

The door behind her was blasted open—she should have moved it with magic. The dresser splintered into a million tiny pieces as diapers, clothes, and toys flew to every corner of the room, some even landing in the cribs in front of her.

She turned and stood firmly in front of Noah’s crib and didn’t even wince when wood splinters stopped midair and cut into her face, neck, chest, and hands. She stared firmly into the red eyes as her children screamed behind her.

She would not go down without a fight.

She would _not_ outlive her children.

Voldemort gazed at the woman who stood still as stone in front of one of the children’s beds. Was this the woman Severus mentally begged him to spare, but never voiced aloud? As he met the defiant eyes—which were belittled by her mouth as it trembled and tears as they pooled—he had to wonder what his Left Hand had seen in her.

“Please,” she whispered in a voice that quivered, “not them. Please, take me, but spare them.”

“Stand aside you foolish girl.” He had no time to deal with her.

“No, please. Not Leif, not Noah, not my babies. _Please_,” she begged again. He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

She was _pathetic_.

With barely a twitch of his wand, he sent her into the wall across the room. Her body landed with a sickening crunch that sounded like the sweetest of laughter to his ears. He pushed back his hood and strode up to the cribs and stood in front of the one that the woman—Lily was her name, wasn’t it?—had been in front of. He stared down his long, aristocratic nose at the child, the delicate arch crinkling with a sneer.

Inside was a toddler who cried as she chewed on some sort of plastic ring with a blue liquid inside. The child shakily stood and held out a slobbery hand towards him once she reached the bars. Her sobs continued and her frantic chews increased in both ferocity and speed as she reached out for him through the white bars in an almost desperate fashion. He took a cautious step forward as his brow furrowed and reached out a hesitant hand.

He didn’t know what had come over him as he summoned soft fairy lights in the darkened room, the light illuminating his smooth pale skin. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of her forehead and her screams immediately ceased. She continued to chomp on the plastic ring now at a leisurely pace, but she did so silently.

Drool dripped down her chin and before he could even process the thoughts in his mind, the drool was magicked away.

Which one was she? He ran his fingers through the fine strands of hair that proved it would be quite thick when she was older. She _must_ be Leif, because there was _no way_ that _Noah_ was a suitable name for a little girl.

The toddler raised her large, wide eyes to his, and his breath hitched painfully as memories of a girl he knew and loved—still loved—long ago flashed through his mind. The familiar ache that always accompanied thoughts of her bit at his hardened heart and threatened to consume him whole.

_How could you…. Bastard…. Sadist…. I want to hit you…. Damn you to Hell, Tom…. I love you…. You are my soul…. Promise me…._

**No!**

She was—_is_—a dream.

She is—_was_—nothing more than a figment of a lonely, teenaged boy’s imagination.

_I love you, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Nothing will ever make me stop loving you_.

Even as he repeatedly told himself that like a chant for an ancient ritual—so very similar to one he performed on her many times—his mind strayed to the vault held deep within Gringotts under his birth name that held only a few items from when he was a student in school.

He closed his eyes and embraced the ache deep within his fractured soul—echoes of his pain throughout a vault, shack, library, and school (**oh how _painful_**). He pulled his hand away from the babe and lifted his wand. Her whimpers slowly joined the howls of her brother as he whispered the words he once taught to a girl so long ago.

_Oh, how he **missed** her._

“_Avada Kedavra_.”

The acidic spell collided with her chest above her heart and disappeared as her screams increased. He recoiled as something deep within him stuttered to a sudden and painful halt. “**What is this magic**?” he hissed as something dark and heady filled the room. The girl’s screams increased until they grew deafening, and out of her eyes leaked bright green tears that forever altered her vision.

The tears, instead of rolling down her face, gathered into a small ball in front of her before they seemed to become solid and soar towards him, and exploded just as it connected with his chest.

Pain filled his soul as his body disintegrated and he turned into a wraith. He quickly fled through the shattered roof as the sounds of apparation reached his disembodied spirit.

He _would_ be back. He would _finish_ what he started.

The girl, Leif Potter, would _die_ for what she had done. 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

James flinched awake and stared woozily at Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black as they hovered over him, expressions filled to the brim of worry. As he blinked away his confusion—what had happened?—the screams of his precious children reached his ears, one more heartbreaking than the other—one more full of pain than the other.

He pushed himself up and with the help of his close friends, quickly stumbled his way up the stairs and into the room with Albus following close behind the trio. The four men stopped in the doorway and stared in horror at the room.

It looked as if a muggle bomb had gone off. The walls were down to the studs, the ceiling collapsed—the stars and galaxies had _no right_ to look so breathtaking after what had happened—and baby stuff was everywhere. There was a small fire in the far corner from where one of the candles had tipped over, and blue fairy lights floated aimlessly around the room.

The four men quickly snapped out of the shock and immediately got to work to try and get to the children who were buried under the collapsed ceiling and put the fire out. Soon the toddlers were unburied and their hearts broke as their eyes fell upon little Noah curled in a ball as she chewed on a teething ring and cried as if her heart had been broken. Blood soaked the bed where a piece of debris had cut her side. Leif was just as bad, if not worse. Not only his bed and bedding were soaked with blood, but his clothes and skin as well.

The toddlers were soon in their family’s arms as they were checked over. The adults quickly found that their magic had apparently healed them, only scars left in the wake of whatever had happened. “Noah’s fine,” James said after a moment of frantically checking his daughter for the third time, two angry scars were the only signs that she had once been injured. One on her chest in a jagged line with no discernable connection to anything and one on her hip which was less swollen and irritated.

“Leif has a cut on his forehead that didn’t heal. It’s in the shape of a lightning bolt,” Sirius explained after he finished checking over his godson for the second time.

“Let me see,” Albus demanded. Leif was handed over to the man and a few moments later, he spoke again. “Leif is the prophesied child.” The four stood in silence as the words sunk in. The only sound was the desperate sobs coming from the children cradled in protective arms.

“Lily? Where’s Lily?” James demanded. He handed his daughter to Sirius and got to work again. He quickly obliterated debris, and found her on the floor near the closet. “She needs to go to St. Mungo’s,” he declared after doing a quick check and found internal bleeding. He looked frantically between his wife and children, desperation and indecision clear on his face.

“Go on, mate,” Sirius urged as he rocked side to side with Noah on her stomach in his arms, her cries slowly quieting. “We’ve got it covered here. The three of us can watch the twins no problem.” James nodded his head and apparated away with his wife in his arms. The three men were left with the two sobbing toddlers.

Albus quickly handed Leif to Remus as he spoke. “I apologize, lads, but, I must be off. I’m sure you’ve got it covered?” Before the two men could protest, he was gone. Remus and Sirius were left clueless as to how to solve the situation. They had never been left alone with the twins before.

“What did I just sign us up for?” Sirius demanded. His head started to ache from the desperate sobs of his godchildren.

Remus chuckled as he adjusted his grip on Leif and patted his friend’s shoulder. “Think of it as an adventure…I honestly think that’s the only way that we’re going to get through this.”

Sirius groaned before he adjusted his goddaughter in his arms and began to coo at her. She giggled slightly and he quickly forgot about his frustrations in order to release his hair from her slimy grip.

Neither noticed the new brightness of her eyes, how eerily similar to the killing curse they were.

No one noticed the Dark magic oozing out of the angry red scar on her chest. 

* * *

_Monday, May 12, 1986_

_ Potter Manor_

Noah ran down the long hallway as she giggled and gasped as her brother chased after her. “I’m gonna getcha, Noey!” he shouted playfully as they ran down one of the many sprawling staircases in the sprawling Victorian mansion.

“No you’re not!” she retorted with a small sneer. She giggled like mad as the rug on the fourth floor landing slipped under her feet. She reached out her small, slightly too thin hands and balanced herself on the wall quickly before she continued to run. She quickly ran to the next staircase and began down it.

The two eventually made it down to the first floor and to the sitting room that their parents were sitting on the expensive and plush couch where they sat on the couch and read large books.

Leif quickly tackled her and started to tickle her when she got distracted from their rough housing by the bright red color of her mother’s hair. How she wished her hair was red instead of the thick, sleek black curtain that currently hung around her shoulders.

“Stop!” she squealed as she swatted her brother’s hands.

“Say it!”

“Never!”

“Say it!” Her stomach started to ache, and that was the only reason that she relented.

“Fine! You’re the best brother ever, and the only friend I’ll ever need.” She sighed in relief when the tickling stopped and was able to sit up.

She shoved her larger brother off of her and stumbled her way over to her father and climbed into his lip.

(she didn’t notice how he didn’t immediately wrap his arms around her the way he did with Leif)

She sighed happily when they did eventually wrap around her and hands started to play with her hair. She snuggled into her father’s embrace—(no matter how reluctant it was)—and was almost asleep when a sharp pain started in the side of her right thigh. “Go away, Leif.” She mumbled as she snuggled closer to her father. He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“But I wanna sit there.”

“I was here first.”

“I was born first.”

“You snooze you lose.”

“I’m the Chosen One.”

“And yet, I’m still the one on daddy’s lap.

Her husband laughed heartily at silly argument between his children while Lily frowned. “Noah, let Leif have a turn with daddy,” she demanded after a few more minutes of arguing between the two.

It didn’t matter to her how creative her children got with their insults and comebacks, it was still nauseatingly annoying when they fought like this.

“But—”

“_Now_, Noah.”

“Daddy?”

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Best do as your mother says, princess.”

Noah groaned softly and suppressed the tears that wanted to escape before she slid off of her father’s lap. She landed on the floor with a soft thud before she moved over to the couch on the inner wall where Leif had been before he commandeered her spot.

She climbed up and turned around and once again had to fight the tears when she saw her mother coo over her brother, and her father held her brother just as tight—if not tighter—as he held her.

Why did his being the Chosen One make him _any_ different than her? Shouldn’t her parents love her just as much as they loved him?

Noah quickly adverted her gaze and discretely wiped at the tears that managed to slip out of her eyes—she _hated_ crying. She dropped her gaze to the ornate carpet and screamed when she saw a large spider as it quickly crawled towards her. She lifted her hands in front of her and a bright green light that matched her eyes escaped. The acidic light killed the spider and shattered a vase in the process.

“Noah Eden Potter! How _dare_ you?” her mother shouted as she stood. Her book fell to the ground with a dull thud. She stormed across the room, and as a shock to all except—perhaps maybe—her, slapped her soundly across the cheek.

“I didn’t mean to!” Noah cried out after a moment of shock. She finally started to feel the throbbing in her numb cheek.

“That doesn’t matter!” Another blow landed against her cheek. “Clean this up, right now.”

“Lily-flower, we can just fix it with a wave of a wand.” Her father now stood with his wand in his hand.

“No. I want her to clean it up by hand.”

Noah, suddenly afraid of her mother and what she would do to her if she didn’t do as told, got down to her hands and knees and started to pick of the glass shards.

“Lily, she’ll get hurt,” her father protested as he moved towards them.

“If she does, it will just teach her that her actions have consequences.”

“But—Lily—”

“James, _don’t_ fight me on this,” she rasped as she turned her icy glare on him.

His shoulders tensed and his Light magic flowed across the room. “This isn’t right, Lily.” He gripped his wand and marched out of the door. The distant sound of apparation soon reached their ears through the open window.

“Hurry up, Noah. I want that cleaned as soon as possible.”

“Yes, mummy.”

“Don’t you _ever_ call me that again. You will refer to me as mother.

A tear fell onto Noah’s hand moments before a large piece of glass sliced her skin.

“Yes, mother.”

Her tears mixed with her blood as she did the task assigned. 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

Noah thought that that would be the norm for whenever something was broken on accident. She thought that their mother would hit them, and that they would be forced to clean whatever it was up by hand.

She had been wrong.

It was two weeks after her first bout of accidental magic that Leif did almost the exact same thing. They both held onto each other as they waited in anxious terror for the rage and the hit their mother would land upon his tanned skin, but it ever came.

Instead, he was praised, rewarded, and coddled. He had a party thrown in his honor.

It was after the party that Leif came to her in her locked room. He climbed into her bed and held her close while she sobbed herself to sleep; the words “it’s not fair” left her mouth over and over until she fell into blessed oblivion.

Her brother had pressed a kiss to the top of her head and quickly joined her in a land of dreams.

The next morning, their father found them, smiled, and took a picture of the two to put into a photo album he had begun to make. He left their room as he slipped the photo into his robe pocket and went down to the dining room to eat breakfast and go to work.

Later, their mother found them.

Leif was woken up, hugged, and urged to get ready for the day.

Noah was woken and hit multiple times and given a new room.

No, it wasn’t fair at all. 

* * *

_T_ _uesday, June 16, 1987_

_ Potter Manor_

Noah hadn’t meant to do it.

It had just happened.

“Noah Eden Potter! What did you do?” her mother demanded as she walked into the room.

“I didn’t mean to!” she squeaked. “It just happened!”

Lily took in the mess and quickly came to the conclusion that she had had another bout of accidental magic. She sighed before she turned her bright green eyes onto her daughter.

Noah cowered under the look and tried to hide as she knew what would come next. The slap seemed to hurt more than usual.

Did she taste blood?

“Clean this up immediately.”

She most definitely tasted blood.

“Mother?” she started as she started to pick up glass shards, “why doesn’t Leif get punished for breaking things?” She figured out immediately that that was the absolute worst thing she could say to her mother at that point—probably at any point, really.

After a beating that seemed to last an eternity, she was grabbed by the collar of her shirt and drug up four flights of stairs before she was tossed into her room—the attic. “You’ll be staying in here until tomorrow.” Before she could respond or protest, the door was slammed shut and glowed a bright blue before it faded into a barely noticeable shimmer. A toilet appeared next to the door along with a small sink.

She wandered through the large stacks in her large, cluttered room for hours. Generations upon generations of items were stored in the room despite her being moved up there a year prior. She was careful not to touch anything as the warnings from her father rang loudly in her ears.

She eventually got hungry and tried to open the door; she was flung backwards and landed with a heavy and painful thud ten feet away from the large door. She lay there stunned for a while before she pulled herself up and drug herself to her bed.

Tears fell down her face as she curled into a ball on the small, lumpy bed that was really just an extremely old chaise longue that was moth eaten and covered in an old white sheet to hide the stuffing from mouse chewed holes.

She cried herself to sleep that night as she stared at the long, white keloid on the palm of her hand from her first mistake, the first _proof_ that she was a witch.

She wished she never found out, that she was a squib.

But, she found what she _really_ wished for was that she had a mother who didn’t hit her and a father who did more to help her. 

* * *

_Wednesday, July 17, 1991_

_ Potter Manor_

Eden sat at the table in silence as she ate her breakfast next to Leif. She was halfway done with the small, bland meal when two owls arrived.

A letter was dropped in front of her, and one in front of Leif. They paused their eating and exchanged a glance before they opened the letters.

_Miss N. E. Potter_

_The Attic_

_Potter Manor_

_Coventry_

_Dear Noah Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_

Eden quickly finished reading the letter and excitement began to hesitantly bud in her bones. “We made it, Leif,” she whispered softly.

She’d _finally_ get away from this hellhole.

Leif wrapped his arms around his little sister and placed a slobbery kiss on her cheek that had her squealing as she attempted to push him off. “Yeah, we did, didn’t we, Noah.”

She pulled away and wrinkled her nose at the name and wiped at her cheek. “Why do you feel the need to do that?”

“Because I love you,” he responded with a cheeky grin.

Eden rolled her eyes lovingly and the two continued their breakfast.

Maybe things would _finally_ change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason as to why as Eden gets older, the name she refers to herself as changes. For the first few years of her life, she see's herself as Noah. Obviously, by the times she's ten, she see's herself as Eden. 
> 
> It will be explained later, I promise.


	3. 2 Blood of the Covenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School supply shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self-control and you guys are all wonderful.

_Friday, July 19, 1991_

_ Potter Manor_

“Noah, it’s time to go!”

The words reached Eden through the heavy door from where they echoed from the bottom of the stairs that led to the attic.

She flinched and quickly glanced in the mirror before she sighed and decided that this was the best she was going to get. She wore a pleated dark blue skirt that had a ratty hem and a white oxford shirt that was also pretty ratty and covered in wrinkles that would never come out without the use of magic. She pulled on a pair of scuffed black Mary Jane’s over the old white knee high socks she wore and ran down the stairs.

“Took you long enough, brat,” her mother sneered once she reached her on the second floor. Her heart pounded and her breath came in labored gasps from running down six staircases. “What in Merlin’s name are you wearing?”

“The nicest clothes I own,” Eden replied softly before she moved over to Leif once she reached the entry hall. He wrapped his arms around her much smaller frame and placed an affectionate kiss on her hair. Both children missed the smile on their father’s face and the grimace on their mother’s.

“Noah, wear your cloak,” Lily commanded as she threw the faded black mass of fabric at her. “Face me.” With a wave of her wand and a whispered spell, the cuts and bruises that decorated Eden’s body disappeared. She sighed before she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just…behave today, Noah—” as if she would ever misbehave “—and remember, don’t speak of what happens at home. And _please_ for the love of Merlin, don’t let anyone see your clothes. You already draw enough attention as it is, and we don’t need you bringing anymore.”

Eden bowed her head and played with her fingers. “Yes, mother.”

The family of four made their way to the apparation point. Leif and Eden joked and giggled with each other on the way. Even though the two weren’t able to spend as much time together as they wanted to, they were still thick as thieves when they were allowed to be in each other’s presence.

Their mother took Leif once they arrived; she placed her hand on his shoulder before they disappeared with a pop.

Once alone, James knelt down in front of his daughter. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I wish there was something more that I could do.”

Eden smiled and hugged him. “It’s okay, papa. You do what you can, and that’s what matters.”

He sighed before he returned the embrace. His daughter was far too old for her age, and he had been—_is_—part of the reason why. “It’s still not enough though, princess.”

Before she could respond, he stood up and lifted her into his arms and balanced her on his hip before he apparated away.

_Diagon Alley_

Once they arrived, he held her close and rubbed her back as the nausea he knew plagued her faded away. For some reason, Eden had never done well with magical travel. Apparation was the form that didn’t end up with her passed out for a few minutes, or vomiting out what little was in her stomach.

How he wished he could do something to help his daughter, more than just sneak her food and heal the injuries his wife inflicted upon her. Had they been in the muggle world, he would have divorced her by now and would have taken his daughter far away. Instead, due to the Bonding Ceremony that they chose, he was forced to watch the woman he loved—no matter how desperately he wished he didn’t—abuse their child.

His precious daughter.

He placed a kiss upon her silky black hair that fell down her back and to her mid-thighs and was a perfect mix of his and his wife’s. He closed his eyes and willed the tears away.

Once the nausea passed, Eden carefully pulled away from her dad. “You okay, princess?” he asked gently as she did so.

She nodded, her head woozy. “Yeah, just a little dizzy.”

“Do you want me to carry you?”

She was aware of the eyes that watched her, was aware of the fire that burned into her back as they stared at her. “No. I’m okay,” she said softly. She was placed on the ground and he took her hand before he led her into the Alley.

Once they crossed the border wall, they were met with a giant crowd surrounding Leif and her mother, both of whom were basking in the attention.

“Stay here,” her father insisted softly when he guided her to a corner. He pressed his hands against her shoulders and angled her face to look him in the eye. “I’m going to go get your mother and brother and then we’ll go to Madam Malkin’s and then to get your trunk, alright?”

Eden’s left brow furrowed in frustration and worry, even as she nodded. Her father pressed a kiss to her forehead and dove into the crowd. If it turned out like any of the other times that the same situation had happened before—granted, there weren’t many, but still—she would either be waiting a very long time, or she’d have to find her way around Diagon Alley to do her shopping on her own.

She’d never done that before.

After her father was out of her sharp gaze, she dropped her gaze to the ground and soon sat. She wrapped her arms around her shins and rested her head on her bony knees and counted both the pairs of shoes that passed her by, and the small pebbles on the smooth cobblestone. It was quite mesmerizing, if she were being honest with herself—she couldn’t afford to _not_ be honest with herself (the false hope and self-delusions would kill her).

She was snapped out of her trance when three sets of shiny shoes stopped in front of her as they faced her. She quickly stood and raised her head and expected to see her family. Instead she came face to face with the Malfoy’s.

She smiled kindly at the trio and hoped the sadness in her eyes wasn’t detectable (it was). “Hello, Lord and Lady Malfoy. Hi Draco,” she said softly. Her high sweet voice gave nothing of the melancholy she felt inside away.

The two children weren’t all that close, but, with all of the balls the Potter’s and Malfoy’s were forced to attend, they had quickly come to the conclusion that the two of them were the most bearable out of all of the children to be around—especially since she was bullied. They were so intent upon this information, that—despite insisting they weren’t close at all—when they were forced to attend an event were the other’s family wasn’t in attendance, they found themselves upset.

So, in reality, they were quite close (no one knew about their friendship though—not even her parents).

“Hello, Noah,” Lady Malfoy greeted along with her husband and a kind smile.

“Please, call me Eden.”

“She prefers it because she’s always being teased by her brother’s friends over her first name,” Draco explained before his parents could even ask.

“Tell me…Eden, where is your family?” Lord Malfoy questioned softly as he gazed into her eyes.

She looked around and saw that the crowd had dispersed along with her family. They had left without her. Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought that she wasn’t as shocked as she probably should be. “I’m not…I’m not entirely sure. My father told me to wait here while he went to go get mother and Leif from the middle of a crowd.” Eden frowned and her lips pinched to side. She missed the look exchanged between the couple in front of her. “I guess they forgot about me.”

“Do you need help getting home?” Lady Malfoy questioned softly.

Eden’s left brow furrowed as she thought in silence. “I’m not sure. I need my school things, and…I doubt my mother would buy them for me if I wasn’t there…I’ve never shopped alone before, but…it shouldn’t be too hard, right?” she asked. She silently cursed the way her lips wobbled.

The two heads of the Malfoy family exchanged another look before she spoke again. “Would you like us to help you, Eden? We’re here doing school shopping for Draco, and it would be no trouble to have you join along with us.”

“Please, Eden! It’ll be fun!” Draco insisted when he saw the hesitation on her face.

She thought for a moment longer before she nodded her head in agreement. “That would be nice, thank you.” The Malfoy’s smirked victoriously and the group of four were off. “I think we need to stop by Gringotts so I can get some money,” Eden hesitantly voiced after a short while.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You can have the stores charge your family’s Vault for you so you don’t have to carry it around.”

“Really?”

“Yes…didn’t your parents teach you that?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m usually not allowed to come with them when they go shopping. I think the only reason I was allowed this time is because it’s for school.”

“What do you do when they’re shopping?” Draco demanded with furrowed brows. Lord Malfoy looked torn between swatting the back of his head, and buying him ice cream.

“I usually stay in the attic.”

Narcissa looked to her husband, the Bond did all of the communication that was needed. She had answered as if that was _normal_. It was by no means _normal_. The two heads of the Malfoy Estate were both desperately concerned about little Noah—pardon, Eden—Potter.

What kind of parents left their child at home while they shopped? _Especially_ since the other child was seen with them on a weekly, sometimes _daily_, basis. What kind of parents didn’t teach their child the very most basic workings of their society?

What kind of life did little Eden Potter live?

It was an open secret that Lily Potter was injured while protecting her children that fateful night nearly 10 years ago, and in the process lost the child she was pregnant with, and the ability to birth more children. Did she _blame_ her daughter for not being able to get pregnant? Did her _husband_ blame his _daughter_ for something a _baby_ had no control over?

Lucius knocked her out of her thoughts when he held the door open to Madam Malkin’s and guided her in with a hand on her lower back.

_Madam Malkin’s_

After the two adults sent the children to get measured they stepped into a corner where they could speak privately and still keep an eye on the children.

“I worry, Lucius,” she whispered. Her voice cracked and her husband’s eyes softened as he reached up and stroked a high cheekbone.

“I know, I am as well, my love.” She leaned into his hand and placed a discrete kiss against his palm.

“What can we do? Is there anything we _can_ do?”

Lucius shook his head sadly. “Not without bringing the wrath of the Potter Estate and most of Magical Britain down on our heads. I believe that as of right now, the only thing we can do is watch from afar, and hope that we are able to help her when the time is right.”

Narcissa closed her eyes and willed the tears away. “Why would they leave their child in the attic? They live in their Ancestral Home, do they not?”

He inclined his head. “They do.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she thought of her own attic. “Imagine all of the dangerous things that could be up there! I know they’re mostly Light oriented, but, there was once a time when the Potters were Dark oriented. How could they do such a thing?”

“I don’t know, my love.” His hand trailed down from her face to rest on her shoulder and squeezed gently. She knew that had they been alone, or even in a less public space, that he would have wrapped her in his arms and kissed away her fears.

“Mother, father, we’ve finished.” The two parents were knocked out of their world of melancholy when the two children came up to them, their bags held in one hand, and each other’s hands clasped between them.

“It was so cool!” Eden exclaimed. Her face lit up with the light of pure happiness that quickly had those around them holding their breath in awe. There was something about her smile that just pulled others in the moment it was released on the world. “I’ve never been fitted for clothes before, and I’ve never needed to personally pay for something before! It was _amazing_!”

After she exchanged a glance with her husband that was too quick for her to decipher, Lady Malfoy grinned at the small child. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it, dear.”

Lord Malfoy stood next to his wife and placed a hand on his wife’s hip. “I believe it’s time to go get your trunks, children.”

_Juniper’s Luxury Advanced Storage Needs_

“Eden, look at this one!” Draco demanded from behind her. Said girl moved away from the small blue trunk she had been examining and stood next to her not-friend friend.

“Woah!” she gasped as she took in what she saw. The trunk itself wasn’t extraordinary. It was a plain black with silver embellishments on the side and top and had four leather buckles that would hold it closed. The inside of the trunk, however, was amazing. She stared at the ornate spiral staircase that led down deep into the well-lit trunk. “We should go in,” she said after a moment of awe filled silence between the two pre-teens.

“Do you think we’re allowed?”

“I don’t see as to why not. If we weren’t allowed why would it be open? Honestly, if they didn’t want people to get in the trunk, they would have it closed. And, this step stool wouldn’t be here either,” she added on as she kicked said object with scuffed shoes.

Draco thought for a moment before he turned around to search for his parents. They were on the other side of the store in a deep conversation with an older man. “Let’s do it.”

The two quickly climbed into the trunk—and aided each other so they didn’t fall down the stairs—and descended into its depths. They were greeted with large piles of trunks and a very eager—probably too much so—salesman. 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

“Lucius, where are Draco and Eden?” Narcissa demanded as she looked around the store and didn’t even bother to hide the frantic worry on her face.

Her husband ceased his conversation with the elderly Lord Nott and looked around, and a frown furrowed his face as he came up empty-sighted. “I thought they were over there,” he stated as he pointed to a section of the store filled with elaborate and plain trunks.

Narcissa excused herself from the two men and began to search for her child and his best friend—she and Lucius were somewhat _aware_ of the friendship the two had going on. “Lady Malfoy,” a voice behind her started. She turned and was greeted with Silvenia Parkinson, Lady Parkinson to most. “Your son and Noah Potter went into that trunk.”

She lifted a perfectly arched brow before she thanked the woman and moved to the trunk. She leaned over the edge and immediately knew why the two children had gone inside.

“Did you find them?” Lucius questioned softly as he placed a large hand on her hip.

“Yes, they went down there.”

He was silent for a moment as he too gazed into the trunk. “Interesting. Shall we find out what they’re doing?” 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

“So, whadya say, kids?” the salesman demanded in a too bright and too happy tone after he explained the many ‘wonderful’ aspects of the many—_way _too many—models of the trunk they were currently in.

Since Eden was always honest with herself, she admitted that she was actually quite overwhelmed and wasn’t entirely sure what to think. The trunk came in five sizes: Petit, Small, Medium, Large, and Stupidly Big (Colassal). And each of those sizes each had five _more_ sizes.

The Petit size didn’t interest her, not did the Small or the Medium sizes. It was the Large and Stupidly Big—Colossal—sizes that truly amazed and interested her.

The Large size had 8 compartments for storage, and each compartment was a five foot cube. It had anywhere between 4 and 9 large rooms that each had a spiral staircase that would lead down into the rooms that had 15 foot ceilings and each had over 2,000 square feet rooms that increased by 500 square feet for each room.

The Stupidly Big—Colossal (she didn’t think she’d ever be able to call it by its proper name on the first try—had 15 compartments for storage and like the Large size, each compartment were five foot cubes. It had between 7 and 12 rooms that each had a spiral staircase that would lead down into rooms that all had 25 foot ceilings. The smallest room was 4,500 square feet, and each room after that adding on an additional 2,500 square feet to the prior number until the last room—similar to the Large. She wasn’t entirely sure how much space that last room would have, but she was pretty sure it would be larger than the 10,000 square foot attic she called her bedroom.

Both of the trunks were password protected, had feather-light charms placed, were guaranteed to last at least 50 years—even with extreme wear and tear—and with the tap of your hand or wand, the trunk would follow after you as if it were a dog.

The one question that she couldn’t ask, but so desperately needed to know, was if there could be a way to hide it from her parents. If they saw her with such a nice trunk—_any_ of them—they would surely punish her for it—she knew for sure her mother would, but she wasn’t entirely sure her father wouldn’t.

“Is there a way to shrink it, or have that put on the trunk?” There. That should sound like a normal enough question. “Without ruining the inside, or destroying the set up?”

“Why o’ course, little lady. We can do that for you. It would cost a bit extra, but, it would work, _and_ because the charm would be placed on the trunk directly, you can’t get in trouble for using magic outside of school. OH! I almost forgot, I can’t _believe_ I almost forgot! Inside the Colossal Trunk, you can practice magic without being caught.”

“Really?” both exclaimed in shock and slight disbelief.

While they didn’t live in the muggle world, and thus wouldn’t—couldn’t—get in trouble for using magic outside of school, it was still fascinating to hear that something like this existed. It was too bad they were so expensive though—she doubted most muggleborn’s would be able to afford such a trunk.

“Really!”

“Why?”

“Because of how much magic is inside of the trunk, it interferes with the Trace.”

Both kids looked at each other and grinned. “We’ll take one.” Eden and Draco flinched and quickly turned around to be greeted by his parents. “Draco, would you like one as well?” Lord Malfoy questioned his son.

She was confused. Wasn’t that trunk for him already? The two children exchanged bewildered glances before the boy nodded his head. “Yes, father.”

“Absolutely wonderful. What color would you like, Eden?”

Her eyes widened and she blinked multiple times as her head reared back. “What? No! They’re so expensive—I couldn’t—” Her words cut off as she covered her mouth.

“Eden, sweetie, let us do this for you,” Lady Malfoy begged gently. “It won’t hurt us financially to buy two trunks.”

“Honestly, we could buy fifty and still not make a dent in our fortune,” Lord Malfoy scoffed. “We won’t be taking no for an answer, Eden.”

Eden’s lips pursed and drew to the left as she frowned. “I guess I’d like the shiny dark gray one,” she answered after a tense stare off.

“Ah, yes!” the salesman cut in. “Gunmetal is a perfect choice, my dear. It will go beautifully with your eyes.”

Eden stepped away from the man’s smarmy grin and flinched violently when she collided with Lord Malfoy’s front. “Thank you?” A hand steadied her and she moved to stand next to Draco.

The man laughed and moved to retrieve the Trunk. “How many rooms would you like?”

“The most there is,” Lord Malfoy cut in before she could speak. “Also, a shrinking charm on both would be much appreciated.”

“You’ve got it!”

She turned back to the Malfoy’s with her eyes wet with unshed tears. “How can I ever repay you, Lord and Lady Malfoy?”

Lady Malfoy smiled softly at her. “Just say hello every time you see us dear.”

“And none of this Lord and Lady business. I’m Lucius, and she is Narcissa.”

A water smile and laugh left the girls lips as the tears burned. “Thank you…so much,” she whispered.

Narcissa wrapped her in her arms and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. Eden leaned into the touch, and her body relaxed in the grasp. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the embrace of a mother until then.

She took a couple deep, fortifying breaths before she pulled away from the comforting embrace. She wiped her eyes and watched the salesman as he applied the appropriate charms and Runes to her ‘gunmetal’ Trunk and a beautiful Kelly green Trunk that would be Draco’s. “It’s hot in here,” she said after a moment.

“That’s because you’re wearing your cloak silly,” Draco teased softly.

Eden nodded and went to remove the garment and stopped with her hands on the clasp as her mother’s words came back to her. _And _please_ for the love of Merlin, don’t let anyone see your clothes_. She shook her head and looked down at the ground. “I’ll be fine,” she said uncomfortably.

“Would you place cooling charms on both trunks as well?” Narcissa asked. She understood—and wished she didn’t (even though she was wrong)—why the girl didn’t remove her cloak.

“O’ course, o’ course, my Lady.” The man went about placing the requested charms before he turned to the adults. “That will be a total of 330,500 galleons, if you please.”

“Charge it to the Malfoy Vaults,” Lucius sniffed.

“Alrighty.” He wrote something down on a piece of parchment before it vanished and another appeared in front of him a few seconds later. “Now kids, once you get your wands, all you hafta do is tap the top of the Trunk and say the password that you want for the desired room or compartment. It will go from the first compartment all the way to the last room. After you do that, the passwords will be set, and if you ever feel the desire that you want to reset your chosen passwords, you’ll have to come in and get them reset, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have a question before we go,” Lucius stated after he shrunk the Trunks and handed them to their respective owners. “If one desired to, would food be allowed to be stored in the trunk and not have it rot?”

“O’ course! All you hafta do is place a stasis charm on the food, and it will be kept perfectly fine. As usual, before eating food with the charm, it will need to be removed—”

“Yes. Thank you for your time,” Lucius cut in before he ushered his family out of the Trunk.

Eden climbed out of the Trunk and giggled as she stumbled and fell into Lucius’ legs. He quickly righted her and made sure she was alright before Draco climbed out and proceeded to do the same thing. She breathed in the blessedly cool air and smiled at her friend. “We’ll get used to it,” she assured them both.

They had to, or their legs would constantly be covered in bruises—while that wouldn’t be anything new to her, it would be for Draco.

He nodded resolutely and his parents ushered them out of the store and towards Flourish and Blott’s where they would get their school books.

It was there, that they met up with her family.

_Flourish and Blott’s_

The four stood in the checkout line with their school books and any other books that had interested them in baskets with extension charms on them. The Trunks were stored away in their pockets—Narcissa had placed a charm on hers to prevent it from falling out after the third time it did so—and the two children chatted animatedly while the adults watched on with extreme fondness.

Their turn eventually came up, and with a slight push from Lucius, the school books and 76 extra books that had interested her to the point of _not_ being able to get them were rung up. “That will be 2 galleons, 16 sickles, and 28 knuts, Miss Potter.”

Eden flinched only slightly at the price before she spoke. “Could you charge that to the Potter Vault’s please?” she asked softly.

“Of course, Miss Potter. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” the young clerk asked from behind the mountain range of books.

“If you would place an extension charm on this bag, please,” Lucius said as he handed over a dark green over the shoulder book bag with silver snakes on it that slithered around. “I will be paying for it.”

“Of course, Lord Malfoy.”

After the books were in her new book bag, and the charmed bag was slung over her shoulder, the Malfoy’s things we quickly rung up and a similar bag was charmed for Draco and his things—his was silver based. The four made their way to leave the shop when they were stopped by an angry shout.

“Noah Eden Potter!” Eden froze at the harsh sound of her mother’s voice and relaxed only slightly when Draco grabbed her left hand and squeezed it. The four turned around to face her family. “Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Shopping.” She turned her gaze to her father. “You never came back for me.” His face paled before he looked away, shame clearly on his face. “Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco have been kind enough to help me purchase my school things.” She started to bounce on the balls of her feet, ignorant of those gathering around the small group. “Did you know that the Vault can be charged directly? There’s no need to carry around coin pouches! And you can have trunks shrunk down, so you don’t have to carry them!”

Murmurs broke out around them as her mother’s eyes widened in shock at the words her daughter spoke. They narrowed as anger took over once more. “That doesn’t matter. You’ll be coming with us, Noah.”

“But—I don’t want to. I’m having fun with Draco.” Her mother’s eyes somehow narrowed further, and Eden knew then that she had made a grave error. She tensed and adverted her eyes and turned her head to Draco as she awaited the painful blow, but, it never came.

“You are to be back by dinner, do you understand?” Eden nodded as her grip on Draco’s hand tightened almost painfully. Her mother turned and ushered Leif further into the store. The crowed of people dispersed slightly to follow after the Boy Who Lived.

Her father came up and knelt in front of her. “I am _so_ sorry, my sweet. I completely for—”

“It’s fine, father.” She ignored the pain that flared in his eyes at the detached name. “I made new friends, so please don’t worry.”

He glanced at the Malfoy’s and frowned before he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Alright. Here—” he rummaged in his pocket before he pulled out a key, “go to Gringotts and pull out some money. Your mother won’t be able to track where you spend it if you do.”

Eden hesitated before she took the iron key. “How much can I take?”

He hummed before he smiled at her. “However much you want. If she notices, I’ll tell your mother that I pulled it out for investing, alright?” She nodded her head and hugged her dad. His arms were slow to wrap around her, but when they finally did, they were reluctant to let her go—nothing unusual. “Have fun and stay safe.” He stood and looked to the elder Malfoy’s. “Please…take care of my daughter,” he begged in earnest.

Narcissa gripped her husband’s arm before nodding. “We’ll look after her as if she’s our own.”

He smiled and stroked Eden’s downy soft hair. “Thank you. I’ll try and calm her down,” he whispered the last bit to her before he stood and followed his wife.

“It seems that our next stop is Gringotts.”

_Gringotts_

They crossed the threshold into the large building. Lucius led the group, with the children behind him, and Narcissa following up the rear. A tender smile was on her face as she stared at their clasped hands.

“Key.”

Lucius handed over to keys, one for the Malfoy Vaults, and the one for the Potter Vault. The two were soon handed back. “What is your business here today, Lord Malfoy, Miss Potter?”

“Money withdrawal from the Potter Vaults and a visit to the Main Malfoy Vault.”

“Follow me.”

The four were led to a cart and taken deep into the bank—to the bowels—before they came to a rapid and sudden halt. Eden and Draco slammed into his parents who quickly steadied them. Eden climbed out of the cart and laid on the ground for a moment as waves of nausea circled in her stomach and mind. “I never want to do that again,” she moaned before she sat up and pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from emptying her already empty stomach.

“Are you alright?” Draco questioned softly as he carefully helped her stand and steadied her small frame as she stumbled. She pressed her forehead into his neck and took deep, shuddering breaths to get her stomach back under control.

“Yeah. I get really sick whenever I travel really fast or take _any_ type of magical transportation. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

While the two children had been talking to each other, the key to the Potter Vault—at least the one they were currently at—had been handed over before the large iron door was opened with a long series of deafening clicks. “Woah! This place is _huge_!” Eden exclaimed as she stepped into the Vault with Lucius who stayed at the entrance. Golden coins were piled around the walls and in the center of the room were smaller piles of gold, but all piles were still taller than Lucius.

“Why don’t you take some money, sweetie,” Narcissa urged from the doorway where she stood with her family.

“How much should I take?”

Lucius looked around as if he were assessing something before be finally spoke. “I’d say based on what your father said, you could easily take 20,000 galleons and not have it be noticed. Might I suggest, just in case something were to happen in the future, 40 or 50 thousand?”

Eden’s eyes bulged. “That much? Really?” She knew the value of a galleon was equal to almost five hundred pounds in muggle money—her mother had that literally beaten into her head—and also knew that a single galleon could buy _a lot_ of stuff. (Now that she thought about it, the price of her Trunk nearly made her sick).

“Yes. It won’t hurt your family. I believe it would take a few more zeros before any dent was truly made in this Vault alone.”

“How do I take that much?”

“How much would you like?”

Eden jumped and turned to the goblin the same height as she was—she _really_ hated being 4’5”. “Uhm…” she looked towards Lucius who held up 10 fingers with a wink. “100,000?” When he nodded, she repeated the number to the goblin. The creature waved his hand, and a small, purple velvet bag floated out from seemingly nowhere and vast amounts of coins were sucked into it. It cinched closed before it floated in front of her face.

She hesitantly grabbed it and expected it to be heavy, and was pleasantly shocked when it was as light as a feather. She opened her mouth to thank the goblin, when a large hand that somehow brought immediate comfort came to wrap gently around her mouth.

“They don’t care for human platitudes. All you_ need_ to do is nod your head at them in a respectful manner.” Lucius’ hand left her mouth. She did as he said, and grinned violently when the goblin repeated the action.

“May your gold forever grow.”

Almost as if it had been drilled into her from the moment of her birth, the words slipped out of her mouth: “And may yours overflow.”

A proud squeeze on the shoulder from Lucius made her smile before they were quickly ushered back into the cart and taken even deeper into the bank before they stopped once more. Eden again stumbled out of the Metal Cart from Hell and laid on the cobbled ground while Narcissa crouched next to her and rubbed and hand up and down her back.

The large door to the Vault, which was guarded by a dragon, opened with many clicks and heavy thuds before Lucius stepped into the large Family Vault. He was in there for an agonizing five minutes before he came out with two bags identical to the one in Eden’s pocket.

He waved his ornate cane and the bags disappeared, and a satisfied smile stretched his face.

The four continued on with their shopping. They stopped for lunch, and over all had a very good time.

_The Charming Demon_

Draco and Eden were so caught up in their conversation about the décor of the 5 star restaurant they were in, that they completely missed the whispered conversation between the two adults accompanying them.

“Did you do it?” Narcissa asked her husband.

“Yes. She’ll find them when she arrives home and unpacks her belongings.”

“The agreed upon amount?”

“Double.” Narcissa grabbed his hand and stroked the calloused skin from years of alchemic brewing.

“You’re a very good man, my husband,” she said. She pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, which he quickly reciprocated. “Was it me,” she started hesitantly, “or does it seem like her father cares for here?”

“Yes. At least, it appears to be that way. He could be acting.”

“So, it’s most definitely her mother.”

“Yes.”

Narcissa shook her head, baffled at how anyone—especially a mother—could lay a hand against such an innocent child as Eden. “I love her already, Lucius.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “As do I, my love. As do I.”

The two adults turned their gaze to the children now rapidly debating the usefulness of being an animagus—both legal and illegal. Their arms flapped around wildly as they tried to get their point across, their voices never rose above a speaking volume, however.

“I believe she is the missing piece to our family, my love.”

“The gods have finally answered our prayers for another child.”

_The Leaky Cauldron_

Eden took a deep breath before she stepped into the unlit fireplace, a pinch of floo powder clutched tightly in her hands. She waved goodbye to her new friends and clearly called out “Potter Manor” before she fell to the ground in her family’s receiving room, nauseated and in pain.

_Potter Manor_

“You are to go to the attic immediately,” her mother stated as she stepped into the room and found her on the floor, curled into a ball as she held her stomach. She watched apathetically as she pushed herself up to her hands and knees and coughed violently as she did so.

She clutched her stomach as a wave of pain washed over her and cried out as she vomited over the plush rug. A sharp pain started on the top of her head as her mother lifted her by her long hair and roughly drug her up 7 staircases to the attic. “I’m sorry, mother,” she whispered as they were on the final staircase, and her nausea had finally abated.

“You will be. You’ll be in here for three days. No food and water.”

“Yes, mother.”

She grunted softly as she landed heavily on the warped, wooden floor and curled into a small ball. She stared at the wand as it was lifted against her, and ducked her head to protect as much skin as possible as the painful spells arced towards her. She kept her sobs and yelps to a minimum—she learnt long ago that they only made the punishment worse.

She breathed a sigh of a relief after 10 minutes when her mother left and the door glowed a familiar blue for a short moment.

After she was sure her mother was gone, she cried herself hoarse. Her magic healed the worst of the cuts, and lashed around the room—it often did that after the worst of the beatings. Eden sat up, wiped her eyes, and removed her torn and bloody clothes. She changed into a threadbare nightgown and sat on her bed.

She reached into the protected pocket of her cloak and frowned when she pulled out three velvet bags instead of one. She shook her head before she removed her trunk and other school things and placed them on the chaise longue.

She pulled out her wand and tapped the trunk, and watched in rapt fascination as it grew back to its original size. She quickly went about and set the passwords—almost all of them were just numbers in Latin—and once that was complete, turned her attention to the three velvet pouches. She opened one and saw hoard’s of gold. She opened the second and saw more gold as well. She furrowed her brow and opened the last to see a note on the top that hid the contents of the bag.

She grabbed the note and unfolded it.

_Eden,_

_If you ever find yourself needing any type of assistance, you will _always_ find it with us._

_Take care of yourself, my dear._

_ Lucius Malfoy_

She peered into the bag and small pieces of furniture and clothing greeted her teary eyes. She hugged the three bags to her chest—she didn’t know which of the ones full of gold the Malfoy’s had given her—and cried herself to sleep, happier than she had been in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this explained some things, if not, comment and I'll try and explain better. You guys are seriously awesome. Because you guys are so awesome, I have changed the update schedule to every Sunday.
> 
> By the way, when first writing this, the Trunk salesman for some reason has a South American accent. Now he just has a really heavy British accent. (he's still Southern in my head though TT__TT)


	4. 3 Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eden's Eleventh Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday somewhere...right?  
(quite possibly everywhere except for where I am)

_Wednesday, July 31, 1991_

_ Potter Manor_

Eden was stuck.

Again.

And again, it wasn’t her fault.

Well…it depended on how you looked at it…it wasn’t her fault.

It was her birthday, and, as the norm had been for the last few years, she was locked away in her bedroom.

So really, it _was_ her fault.

But she was _so_ going to blame her mother for this.

Faint laughter drifted to her ears from the party that was currently taking place in the large ballroom three floors beneath her room. Leif had always insisted the day after that it was boring and that he didn’t have any fun because she wasn’t there. It was hard to believe someone when they refused to look at you, stuttered, and practically ran away after speaking.

Besides, if he _wanted_ her to believe him, he’d have to have their parents soundproof the attic.

But, back to being stuck.

Over the last two weeks, ever since she had gotten her Stupidly Big Trunk—thank you Lucius and Narcissa—she had thrown all caution to the wind and started to explore the attic to see what she could find. She had found many things, all of which were either stacked in large piles around her bed, or put away neatly in her Trunk.

That day, to occupy her mind, she had opted to wonder again instead of putting the 200 plus items she had claimed as hers away. She had opened a seemingly innocuous trunk, and had…fallen…in?

She wasn’t entirely sure what happened, actually.

Had she been even _4_—maybe even 3—inches taller, she could have jumped and grasped the ledge and eventually pull herself out. Unfortunately, she had been cursed with the plague known as Malnutrition.

As she glared around the small room, she came to the conclusion that this trunk must be one similar to her own. The space she was in didn’t have much. Either the previous owner must have not stored many things in it, or had removed most of the things that had once been in there.

She glared longingly once more at the opening of the trunk, just out of reach, and turned her attention to the few—comparatively to the size of the room—objects around her.

She was immediately in heaven.

The 27 small boxes that had been left in the trunk were all jewelry sets. Each had a necklace, a pair of earrings, a bracelet, and a ring. All appeared to be made with either silver, white gold, rose gold, platinum, or rhodium. All had some sort of precious stones: diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, opals, rubies, and one even looked like it might house a small chunk of Snowflake Obsidian.

There were 17 books in the trunk, all on a subject that she didn’t quite understand, but, if she had to take a guess, it was Dark and evil magic.

That’s all Blood Magic could be, right? Evil?

“Eden? Sweetie, where are you?”

Eden shrunk her treasures and gathered them all up—the books too—in her overly large shirt and stared up at the hole. “Uncle Sirius!”

That might be a problem.

“Eden? Where are you cub?”

“I’m in the dark pink trunk!” she called out as loud as she could, her voice extremely muffled, even to her own ears. Was there some kind of charm on the trunk? Soon, after mumblings and the opening and closing of many trunks—how hard was _dark pink trunk_ to understand (there was only _one_)—three faces stared down at her. “Hi Uncle Sirius. Hi Auntie Mariea. Hi Uncle Remus!”

“What are you doing down there, cub?” Uncle Remus asked as he gazed down at her with concern.

“I fell.”

Sirius chuckled and was promptly hit by his pretty wife. “Are you alright?” she asked the young girl.

“Yeah. Just a couple of bruises, nothing I’m not used to.” The three adults frowned and with a flick of their wands, she and her treasures were levitated out of the trunk with great care.

“How did you fall down there?” Sirius demanded as he checked her over for anything more serious than a bruise.

She explained how she ended up in the trunk. “I’m not entirely sure what happened, it might have pulled me in. But, I found some really sparkly jewelry and some books that I don’t quite understand. I didn’t read any of them,” she added when they looked at her in concern.

Eden was very bright for her age, and the only things she _truly_ didn’t quite understand were Dark in nature, and she was aware that the adults around her, who knew her, knew this fact. She led the way through the stacks and piles of old things from her ancestors, and to the little part of the attic that she had claimed as hers years ago.

She put the jewelry boxes on her bed and the books next to them. She enlarged the items and walked away from them as Uncle Remus sat down next to the books and started to look over them. Uncle Sirius grabbed her around the middle and lifted her up into a giant bear hug. “Eden, these books are very Dark. Would you mind if I took them and put them somewhere safe?”

Eden shook her head as she climbed around Uncle Sirius so she was hanging around his neck on his back. “No, I don’t mind. I’m not entirely sure why I grabbed them.”

She squealed loudly when Uncle Sirius suddenly had her in his arms before he tossed her in the air and towards Uncle Remus who just barely caught her as he lunged off the chaise longue.

“Padfoot,” he admonished softly as he hugged her close to him.

“What about me?” Aunt Mariea complained playfully after a moment. Eden climbed off of Uncle Remus’ shoulders that she had managed to climb to in the short amount of time that she had been in his possession.

Once she was on steady ground, she sped over to her aunt and wrapped her too thin arms around the older woman’s neck when she crouched down. “How’s your day been so far?” she asked as she pulled away and stroked her cheek.

Eden smiled and leaned into the touch. Aunt Mariea was unable to have children, and as she and Sirius still weren’t cleared to adopt, she had become the woman’s pseudo daughter. She didn’t mind. Their PTSD didn’t bother her much, due to her life, but, she dearly hoped that soon their therapist would clear them fit for adoption. She wanted a friend she could play with.

“It’s been okay, I guess. I’ve been exploring all day.” For the past three days, but, they didn’t need to know that.

“How long were you in that trunk for, baby?”

“Uhm…three hours? I’m not entirely sure how long I was in there for.”

“Have you eaten yet today?” The dreaded and painful question that was always asked shortly after the three adults arrived.

She shook her head and looked down. “No, but, that’s fine. I’m not hungry.” Aunt Mariea and Uncle Sirius exchanged thinly veiled looks of anger before they called for their house elf Scooby. They quickly ordered the elf to bring food. “No! You don’t have to, I’m fine, promise,” she desperately insisted.

They didn’t listen.

“Eden, we want to help you. We love you,” her godmother insisted in return as she stroked her face. Her eyes teared up and she nodded her head as her lips pinched to the side as she tried to not cry. The three adults wrapped her in their arms and held her close while she cried.

They exchanged looks over her head, and knew that they needed to do something about the treatment given to her. They had been discretely trying for the last four years—ever since they found out. Perhaps discretion wasn’t what was needed in this case.

They weren’t afraid of the Potter’s and what they could do to them. After all, the Blacks were _far_ more powerful than the Potter’s could ever dream of being. Neither were they afraid of losing longtime friends. The only reason that they still came around was for Leif and Eden, and even then it was more for their goddaughter.

The food arrived and they again shared looks as she carefully ate the food, and only ate a too small portion of the feast that had been brought before she stated she was full and couldn’t eat anymore.

It couldn’t go on any longer. She needed freedom.

Peace. 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

Eden laid on the floor and stared up at the high, vaulted ceilings. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to fly?” she asked suddenly. “Because I think about it all of the time.”

“It’s absolutely wonderful,” Aunt Mariea responded fondly.

“What would you do if you could fly?” Uncle Sirius asked from where he lay next to her with his arm under her head. Uncle Remus was on her other side with an arm slung around her stomach, and Aunt Mariea sat by her head and ran her fingers through the sleek black locks that reached her mid-thigh. Her hair hadn’t been cut since she was six, and she was quite fond of the length.

“I’d fly far, far away. Maybe somewhere over the rainbow,” she sighed softly as she relaxed further into their embraces.

“Can we come too?”

“I’d like that.”

The four stayed in a comfortable silence before it was broken by Mariea. “Well, gentlemen, I believe we have some presents we need to give this young lady.”

“Right you are, my dearest,” Sirius agreed in a pompous accent that had them all laughing. They sat up and moved into a circle. Two fairly large presents appeared in the center, while two—slightly smaller—presents appeared on top of the first two, while a fifth, larger than all combined appeared next to the circle of people.

“Which one should I open first?” Eden asked purposefully, as she knew exactly what would happen next. The two marauders’ quickly got into a heated argument over whose present she would open first.

Eden made eye contact with her godmother and giggled quietly when she subtly pushed one of the gifts towards her with a wink and a point at herself. She nodded and pulled it onto her lap and started to tear at the shiny blue and bronze paper. “Mariea!” Sirius and Remus complained at once. Their complaints were quickly silenced when Eden reached into the box and pulled out three very nice boxes.

“Next time,” she started with an imperious sniff, “you two will _learn_.”

“Bloody Ravenclaw,” they both mumbled under their breaths.

Eden opened the largest of the three boxes and grinned widely when she saw a crystal ink set with four black swan feather quills with metal tips, and two clear quills with green chips embedded inside. “They’re crystal,” Mariea explained when she lifted one of them out of their velvet casing. “And emerald chips. I thought they matched your eyes, and when I saw them, I couldn’t help but to think of you, same with the quills.”

She gently placed the crystal quill back into its snug home before she wrapped her arms around her neck. “Thank you!” she squeaked excitedly.

“The quills have numerous charms placed on them, so you can drop them and not worry about them shattering. I don’t recommend doing that often though. You know how those charms wear off after a while.”

Eden agreed with a laugh and an incline of her head. “I don’t plan on it, thank you Auntie Mariea.” At the excited gesture from the woman, she opened the next box and found a set of diamond and ruby jewelry made with black silver. She opened the last box and grinned widely at the large crystal bottle filled with a shimmery emerald green that matched her eyes perfectly. The bottle was almost as big as her head, and in the shape of a bird head.

“So you’ll always think of me when you write.”

She thanked her godmother again, and the fight for whose present she would open next began once more. She giggled at the argument between the two giant children, and once more met the older woman’s eyes and rolled her own. “Do you remember whose present I opened first last time?”

“I think Remus happened to win last time,” she answered after a moment of thought. “Oh, yes, it was. He tackled Sirius down the stairs.” The two laughed at the sudden memory.

“Then I shall open Uncle Sirius’ first.”

“Haha! Yes! In your _face_, sucker!” He stuck his tongue out at his dearest friend, who responded with a rude hand gesture.

“You, my dear, are a child,” Aunt Mariea stated with a sniff.

“You still love me though,” he responded as he pressed a kiss to her hand.

She smiled softly. “Unfortunately, I love you very, _very_ madly.”

“Well, you’d have to be mad to love me.”

Eden giggled and pulled the middle sized gift of the remaining presents towards her and opened it. Inside were two more boxes, one significantly smaller and lighter than the other.

While she thought it was strange that they put all of the presents from themselves in one box, she understood—unfortunately. If her mother were to spot that they were addressed to her, they would either be given to Leif or thrown out—they had all learnt from experience.

She opened the large box first and laughed when she saw four thick books. “I never thought that _you’d_ be the one to give me books, Padfoot,” she teased as she stared at him with a playful glint in her eyes.

The man crossed his arms and pouted. “Look at the titles before you judge, love.”

She did as told and squealed when she saw that they were four books on how to become an animagus. “Really?” she demanded with eyes that glimmered.

Padfoot grinned and ruffled her hair. “Yep. We’ll be there with you every step of the way. From the first prep steps, to getting you registered, we’ll be right there next to you.”

Eden threw herself at him and wrapped him in a big bear hug—at least, as big of one as she could give (which wasn’t that big). “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeaked as she bounced on his lap. She leapt off of him and started to run around in rapid circles as she just as rapidly theorized and babbled about her animagus: what it could be, and what she’d do with it depending on what it was.

The adults laughed at her antics before they summoned her over to finish opening her gifts. She reluctantly sat down and while she bounced in place, opened the small box to see a thick, black leather cuff that had swirls embroidered with thin silver metal. She pulled it out of its home and Uncle Sirius took it and slipped it onto her left wrist. The cuff shrank down to fit snug—yet comfortable—on her arm.

“It will protect you from most basic jinxes, hexes, and curses that students will learn at school.”

Wide, fearful, emerald eyes turned towards him. “Do you really think that I’ll need it?”

“I sure hope not. I’m just worried. My little angel is off to school where I can’t be with her whenever I want to be.”

No one voiced how he couldn’t do that while she was at home either.

“Thank you, Padfoot,” she said softly. She gave him another hug and opened the smallest of the four presents.

Inside the box was a large leather book. She lifted it out and smiled at the blank expanse of sweet smelling parchment. Uncle Remus moved to sit behind her and opened it up to the first page. On it, a note was written in shining silver ink that glowed and seemed to float off of the luxurious parchment.

_My Dearest Eden,_

_ I hope that you will find your years at Hogwarts happy, eventful (but not dangerous eventful), and full of friends who love and cherish you. I give this to you for you to write down whatever you want. _

_ I hope you use it well and often, and cherish it as much as I cherish you._

_ L_ _ove,_

_ Moony_

“This is a very special diary, Eden,” he started, his voice low and soothing. “It had many charms and spells placed on it that will allow you to never run out of pages. You can also have the book sort itself to however you want, and you can call forth any entry you want as long as it’s been labeled here.” Eden turned in his arms and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you, Moony.” He placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head and breathed in her sweet scent.

“Of course, cub. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I love all of you.”

She stayed in his arms and the largest box was opened once the touched it, and about a hundred books started to hover in front of her. “This is for your schooling and researching purposes,” Aunt Mariea explained. “They’re from all of us, and well…yeah.”

They all laughed and sat and chatted for a short while longer before the heavy thuds of footsteps on the stairs reached them. With a flick of three wands, the presents—and the unopened one—were hidden underneath her bed, and a sheet fell over to cover them. The food disappeared, and the garbage vanished. The attic door opened, and there stood her father.

“Lily is starting to wonder where you three are,” James said stiffly after he took in the scene in front of him.

His daughter was snuggled up against Moony, and Padfoot, and Wings were sitting either side of the two and played with her hair.

He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t seen her that content and happy in a very long time.

Eden tried to hold back the tears as the three adults around her sighed and stood. After a tearful goodbye, they left. They squeezed past her father and started down the steps and quietly murmured amongst themselves.

Echoes of the party reached her ears, and her heart cracked when she was able to discern Leif's voice as he laughed and chattered happily.

_Wasn’t fun my butt._

“Happy birthday, Noah,” her father said just before he closed the door.

The lonely girl sighed and once she was sure that she was going to be left alone for the retrieved the presents from under her bed. She moved her new books—even the ones from the dark pink trunk (Moony had forgotten about them when Padfoot had thrown her at him)—into her library that she made inside her trunk, in the largest room.

After that monumental task was performed, she gathered the other presents and made her way into the compartment she had dubbed her office—for now it was a study (a very, very large study).

She placed the items on her desk—thank you, Lucius—and in their proper places, and once that was done, grabbed one of the crystal quills, the diary, and the shimmering green ink, she began to write—(the unopened present with the unread tag of ‘_Love, Papa_’ long forgotten).

_Dear Diary…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very fond of this chapter, but... I felt it was needed (for some reason)  
Hope you liked it.  
Also, should Remmy stay with Tonks, or should I make someone else for him? Comments more than welcome.


	5. 4 The Start of Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, people. This is one of the longest chapters I've written so far. I hated the last chapter, and I've had a pretty sucky day, so, you get two chapters.

_Sunday, September 1, 1991_

_ Hogwarts, Great Hall_

Eden gripped Leif's left hand tightly and hid her face in his right shoulder as the stern professor neared the P’s. His right arm was wrapped tightly around her waist to hold her up, as she was still ill from the train ride—nine hours of _constant **magical** travel_ was _hell_ (and that didn’t include the 20 minute boat ride which was somehow even worse). She didn’t swear often, but, when she did, it was to make a point.

And that was a point that she felt needed to be made _very_ clear.

As “Parkinson, Pansy” was called, her panic increased along with her nausea—whether it was from nerves or the travel, she wasn’t entirely sure (it was probably both). What she did know, however, was that there was no _way_ she was going to be in Gryffindor—and if she wasn’t in Gryffindor, she’d be even more of a disgrace.

She wasn’t brave—she knew that, she was weak.

She wasn’t courageous—she did everything she could to hide.

Overall, she didn’t know _which_ house she’d be in—if she even _fit in_ to any of them—but, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, that there was no way it would be Gryffindor. She wasn’t good enough.

She was _never_ good enough.

“Potter, Leif.”

The illness churning—roiling boiling heaving _dying_—in her stomach grew tenfold as she dropped her brother’s calming hand after she gave it a desperate squeeze. He returned it—not in desperation—and gave her a quick hug before he sauntered up to the hat. It was placed on his head and less than five seconds later “GRYFFINDOR” was shouted for the entire world to hear.

Eden clapped and cheered loudly for her brother, even as anxiety gripped at her throat and clogged her lungs and airways and _Merlin_—_she_ _couldn’t_ **_breathe_**.

“Potter, Noah.”

She took a shallow breath as snickers echoed throughout the hall and carefully walked up to the hat, chanting to herself to not be sick. She sat down on the old, rickety stool and the nearly dead hat was placed on her head.

All was silent for a while before a slimy voice sounded in her head, which caused her to flinch and nearly fall off of the stool.

_Not good enough for Gryffindor, eh? Don’t belong in any of the Houses, hmm?_

_I’m not brave. I don’t know if I even belong here._

_While you are not brave in the sense that is generally accepted, or even expected by the House, you are quite a brave young girl. But, you are correct in thinking that you wouldn’t be placed in Gryffindor—the environment wouldn’t be good for you. You would become stagnant, never increasing, and never decreasing. You need somewhere you can thrive. While you would do well in any of the three remaining Houses, especially Hufflepuff, I see something in you, that you probably do not even realize yourself._

_What do you mean?_ She could hear faint whispers as they reached her mind through her ringing ears, and pounding head from underneath the old fabric.

_You have a very strong ambition, child. The desire to prove that you are worth being as loved as your brother. That you are worth something more than a convenient punching bag. You want people to look at you, and see someone they would never think about hurting or mocking. You want to be protected, and you want someone to protect._

_I already know most of that._

_Yes, but, be that as it may, there is more to you than meets the eye. Even more than you yourself will know for a long time, if ever._

_What do you—_

“SLYTHERIN!”

Eden’s heart froze as the hat was removed and she was greeted with the silent hall. She looked to her brother and saw a look of pure shock on his face. Blood pounded in her ears—which brought her dangerously close to being sick—as she slowly stood from the stood and started to stumble her way to the Slytherin table.

She paused and placed her and against her mouth, the fear of being sick in front of everyone was very close to becoming a reality.

“Eden!” She looked up and met Draco’s calm, silver eyes. He stood and waved his hand rapidly over his head. “Come sit here.” She paused for a moment longer before she continued of. She was almost to the table when a whisper met her ears.—although, it didn’t seem to even attempt to be hidden.

“I feel bad for their family, mate. Having a slimy snake in the house must be sickening, her poor brother. If _I_ were them, I’d disown her now to save the family name.”

Eden’s legs collapsed under her, and she landed hard on the ground as whispers and raucous laughter echoed around the hall. She gagged slightly, and the rustling of robes filled her ears, and suddenly three pairs of hands were on her—no sorry _please_ no _stop_. They helped her up and led her to the table. The hall was silent as she sat down and was fussed over for a moment.

She lifted her head and was greeted to the sight of Professor’s Snape, McGonagall, and Quirrell. She smiled her thanks and the Sorting continued.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked when she rested her head on the table.

“No. The train ride was _hell_, and the boat ride even more so,” she moaned softly. He rubbed a hand across her back and soothed her with words of comfort as she discretely cried onto her plate.

Her mother would really kill her now, wouldn’t she? 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

His eyes watched as the students filed in. He noted their hair color, skin color, height, and weight. His eyes landed on one child in particular, and his interest was piqued, and not in a good way.

She was the smallest of the group by quite an alarming amount. Her hair was dark and long, her smooth skin sallow and pale, and her eyes a shockingly bright green, despite the unease she was obviously in—he vaguely registered the wonderings of if they would be even brighter when she felt well.

She held the hand of the boy next to her who had similar features, and seemed to be absolutely ill with terror. Once they stopped before the hat, and it started to sing, the boy wrapped his arm around her and practically held her up. The hands they each held shifted and she leaned into his embrace, and the pallor faded only slightly. It quickly returned however, the further in the alphabet they went, and she eventually hid her face in his shoulder.

When the boy that held her had been called, the Presence that lingered in the back of his mind came to the forefront. It didn’t completely take over, but It was still able to see what he saw. He felt what It felt: a sneering disdain for the boy which only grew when he was Sorted into Gryffindor.

Then, the girl had been called, and he only felt a burning curiosity—and so much pain and anguish and _soul crushing despair_—as the Presence moved even further to the forefront. He lost half of his control of his body, and his back immediately straightened as his hand came up to rub at his mouth. The hat was placed on the girl’s small head, and engulfed it completely.

He thought she would just be like her brother, Sorted in seconds to the same House, but, as the seconds ticked by, and morphed into minutes, it was obvious that that was not the case. When it became a Hatstall, it was obvious that the likelihood of her being Sorted into the House of the lions was very,_ very_ slim.

At the six minute mark she flinched violently, and nine minutes after the hat had been placed on her head, she was Sorted.

Grim satisfaction flooded his body—entirely none of his own—when Slytherin had been shouted. When she stood, it had been with obvious shock and struggle. She seemed to be incapable of anything above a shuffle, and then the whispers started as the shock wore off.

Everyone heard the statement that had caused her to fall. The Presence took complete control, and they, along with two others, ran over to her. Their hands were careful to touch only the cloth of her robes, and even then, they felt a peculiar tingling in their hands that bordered on painful.

After the Sorting continued, the Presence spoke to him.

_Keep an eye on her. She will be very useful. No harm is to come to her._

_Yes, Master._

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Eden slowly stood from the table after Headmaster Dumbledore finished his speech.

“First years, follow me!” a Slytherin Prefect called. Draco and Eden held hands as they were led out of the great hall and towards the dungeons. She still felt ill, although eating had helped a little, and was grateful for the support he willingly leant her.

“Oi, Potter!”

She stopped and turned around with Draco—and the other first years—to see Weasley, Finnigan, Thomas, and one other boy who had been sorted into Gryffindor along with her brother. “Yes?” she asked, her voice soft.

“How does it feel to be evil?”

“I always knew something was wrong with you.”

“This just proves it.”

“Is this why mummy and daddy don’t love you?”

The insults kept coming, and Eden just stood there as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. When Draco stepped forward with his wand raised, she tugged on the hand she held, unaware of her brother’s jealous gaze. “Don’t do it, Draco. There’s nothing to gain from hexing them.”

“They’re not worth our time,” Parkinson stated firmly as she came up and grabbed Eden’s other hand. The Gryffindor’s fell silent, and still Leif stared.

Her eyes shifted to her brother, and she ignored the stab of pain in her heart at the apparent apathy on his face and in his eyes. The Slytherin first years gathered around her, and even a few of the older years. The Gryffindor’s cowered back for a moment before they straightened their spines.

“Can we go to the common room?” she asked softly. Her eyes never left her twin. “I know I’m not welcome here—” her voice broke “—would I be welcome there?” she asked as more tears dripped down her face, and her voice broke again.

“With welcome arms,” a seventh year stated firmly from where he monitored the situation.

“Yes, you’ll be welcome there as if you family,” Draco insisted and squeezed her hand. She knew he meant like she was his family.

“We’ll be the most loving, and caring family you’ll ever need,” Parkinson sneered at her brother.

A smile twitched against Eden’s lips as pain—finally _something_—flared in Leif's eyes.

A _real_ family?

Was it too good to be true?

“Let us go then,” she said as she allowed herself to be turned and led away. 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

That night, as she lay in an uncomfortably comfortable bed with her three dorm mates—there were four to a dorm until fifth year when you were given your own—she had convinced herself that her Housemates had only said and did those things because of the number one rule in Slytherin: Stick Together.

She went to sleep that night with a tear stained pillow, and horrid dreams that painted her mind with despair.

Over the next few weeks and months, however, the Slytherin’s—especially Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Greg, Vincent, Theo, and Blaise—made sure that she knew she was one of them. Knew that she was a snake through and through. They made sure that she knew she was loved and cared for.

They made sure, that even when her own parents blatantly ignored her—and practically worshiped her brother—that she had her own family.

Especially the Malfoy’s—they quickly became closer to her than her own family—along with Uncle Sirius, Uncle Remus, and Aunt Mariea. 

* * *

_Thursday, September 19, 1991_

_ Slytherin Girls First Year Dorm—2_

Eden stretched and her back popped with loud satisfaction as she did so.

“That sounded painful,” Daphne groaned from her side of the dorm as she pulled on a silk nightgown.

“Oh no, it was _very_ satisfying.”

The four girls giggled and quickly finished getting ready for bed. Eden pulled on a white cotton nightgown with long sleeves that were too long and covered her fingers—even though there was a wristband that bunched the fabric at her wrist. The gown was also far too long, and drug on the floor, and often tripped her. It was one of the clothing items that had been given to her by Lucius and Narcissa, and it was her one of her favorites since she arrived at Hogwarts because of how cold the dungeons were.

She climbed in her uncomfortably soft bed, and after she bid her friends a goodnight, drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_Friday, September 19, 1991_

_ Transfiguration Classroom_

Eden immediately opened her eyes and looked around as confusion clouded her mind.

Where was she? No…that wasn’t the right question. She _knew_ where she was. She was in a classroom. The question she should be asking herself is: why?

_Why_ was _Dumbledore_ teaching Transfiguration?

_Why_ was she _in_ Transfiguration?

_Why_ was she in the back of the classroom?

“Miss? Is everything alright?” Eden looked up and made eye contact with Dumbledore—why did he look…young…ish?

_Everyone_ was staring at her. She started to fidget with her nightgown. She pulled the elastic bands down over her hands completely and gathered it in her hands as she pulled at the deliciously soft fabric.

She hated it when people stared at her.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” she faltered after a moment. “I think…I think I might be lost.”

“Where are you supposed to be, my dear?”

(_Sleeping_, a voice whispered. Was that voice right though?)

“I don’t…know,” she said softly. Her mind was foggy and she was scared. Her breathing quickened as fear took hold. Who were all of these people? What was going on? Was this a dream? She pinched her stomach through the nightgown and expertly hid a wince.

Definitely not a dream—_can’t breathe help_.

She flinched back violently when a hand reached out and touched her face to wipe away a tear that she hadn’t been aware of. She blinked a few times and focused on a boy a few years older than she was as he stood in front of her. He wore a Slytherin uniform and his bright blue eyes stared at her in concern.

“Come with me,” he said softly, “I’ll help you.”

Eden nodded her head and flinched once more when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to lead her out of the classroom.

_Transfiguration Hallway_

They walked down the hallway for a bit before her confusion won out once more, and desperate sobs tore violently out of her throat. “I don’t know what’s going on!” she wailed softly through them.

The boy seemed to hesitate before he wrapped her in his arms and pet her hair while she sobbed into his chest. “It’s alright. I’m going to help you figure out what you’re supposed to be.”

(_I’m supposed to be SLEEPING_, that voice stated once more.)

She slowly got a hold of herself and pulled away with gasping hiccups, and wiped at her eyes, the fabric of the nightgown soothed the burning of her tear stained cheeks. “O—okay.”

“Now, can you tell me your name?” he asked as he placed his hands on her shoulders—she flinched once more—and angled her head gently so she could look at him and not his obnoxiously shiny shoes.

Why did his eyes seem so…inviting and…soul sucking…at the same time?

“E—Eden.”

He smiled and her heart stuttered in her chest at the amount of kindness he had shown to her in that smile. “My name is Tom. Tom Riddle. Eden, can you tell me what happened to make you so upset?”

Eden looked down at the ground in between them once more—really, his shoes were _way_ too shiny. “I don’t know what happened. My head is all foggy, and I can’t seem to remember anything.” Her breathing quickened once more as her panic took hold again.

“Hey, it’s alright, breathe, Eden. Just breathe. Good. Are you able to tell me what the last thing you remember is?”

“I was in bed after I had finished studying with my roommates, and, I fell asleep pretty quickly, but, then…I feel like I just immediately woke up here.”

He frowned and Eden shied away from him—a habit engrained into her after years of her mother. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He sounded almost offended—as if he were a saint who would never even _consider_ hurting another living creature, let alone a sobbing girl. “Can you tell me what day it is Eden?”

“Thursday, September 19,” she answered after a moment of thought.

He frowned once more, and again she flinched away. “You got the date right. It’s Friday though.”

Eden frowned as well. “No…it’s right. I had double DADA today. I remember that because I hate Thursdays because Professor Squirrel is the _worst_ teacher ever. Really, how did he get the job? All he ever does is stutter and talk about how he was attacked by vampires, although, you probably know that.” She looked up at him again and scanned his face and robes. “You’re in Slytherin, right?”

“Yes.” Eden ignored the slight exasperation and confusion in his tone.

“Why have I never seen you before? I’m in Slytherin too, and while admittedly I don’t know many people beyond the first years, I’ve seen a lot of the other students in the common room due to the biweekly House meetings that Professor Snape holds.”

He was silent for a moment, a pensive expression on his face. “Eden, can you tell me what year it is?”

She frowned at him, her left brow furrowed. “Uhm…. Why don’t _you_ tell me what year it is?” It was clear in her voice that she thought he was less than sane.

Riddle’s lips pulled up into what seemed to be a very unwilling smirk. “Alright. The year is 1941.”

Eden couldn’t help the giggles that trickled out of her mouth. She stopped when she saw the look on his face. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m quite serious, my dear.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Riddle reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand—she backed up into the wall with a barely there whimper. “_Accio_ newspaper.” Eden kept her eyes on the bone-white wand.

She felt as if it called to her.

Sometimes, she felt like her mother’s wand called to her before she’d raise it against her, but, this felt different. Instead of instigating fear and pain, it brought peace and comfort.

The fluttering the papers reached her ears, and she tore her eyes away from the wand just as the newspaper came to hover in front of her face.

_Friday, September 19, 1941_ was written in the upper right-hand corner.

“What? How—how can—” Her head pounded and her blood gushed in her ears as she lifted her hands to her head.

What was going on?

“Eden, I need you to breathe, can you do that for me?” Slowly, Eden started breathing again and the world stopped spinning. She noticed she sat on the floor with her back pressed against the stone wall while Riddle knelt in front of her and softly stroked her hair. “What year is it for you?” he asked softly, a strange light in his eyes.

Eden shook her head. “I—I—what?” Riddle chuckled softly and stroked her hair once more. “My head hurts,” she mumbled as she rubbed it with a cloth covered hand.

“Let’s go get you a pain potion and then we can go to the common room or somewhere else to try and figure this out.”

Eden agreed and took his offered hand after a hesitated moment. He helped her to her feet, and they made their way to the hospital wing—she only tripped four times (a new record).

_Hospital Wing_

“Mr. Riddle, is everything alright?” the young healer asked as they walked in.

“This young lady has a headache, Healer Jones. I was asked to help her.” The man nodded before he waved his wand a few times over her body and head before he nodded and went to the backroom. “So, Eden. How old are you?”

“Eleven. How old are you?” She played with her fingers, her hands joined together, which caused the sleeves to bunch above them.

“Fourteen.”

“You’re really tall,” she said after a moment of silence. She stared at her hands as she weaved her fingers together under the fabric.

“Perhaps you’re just short,” he suggested with a pointed look at her dirty hem.

Healer Jones came back at that moment and handed Eden a potion before he gestured for Riddle to follow him. He squeezed her shoulder before he followed.

“Is there something wrong?” Tom asked once they were out of hearing range from the girl—Eden. He watched her as she took the potion, and the cute little grimace that crossed her face after she did so.

“In my basic checks, I came across something very concerning.”

His eyes snapped to the man. “What do you mean?” Was he able to see that she wasn’t of this time?

“She has obvious signs of _years_ of malnutrition—her height is the main one—and less obvious signs of physical abuse. I wouldn’t be shocked if there was mental abuse either.”

Tom blinked a few times. “She’s abused?” His eyes went back to the girl—Eden—as she played with her fingers once more, the sleeves still covered her hands. Pieces of her long, straight hair fell over her shoulders while the rest fell down her back in a loose braid that rested on the bed behind and next to her.

“Yes, it appears to be that way. She shows slight improvement on the nutritional size, which makes me think that she’s been able to eat properly since coming to Hogwarts.” He was silent for a moment as he too stared at the small, scared girl. “Do you know her family?”

“No. Today is the first time that we’ve spoken.”

The man nodded before he adverted his gaze back to the first year. “I’d like for you to try and figure out who her family is. If at all possible, I’d like for an investigation to be done in case she has siblings suffering the same fate as she.”

And that was why he was somewhat…fond… of Healer Jones. He always wanted to help those who needed help outside of school, but, due to his position, he wasn’t able to do much—Tom knew from experience. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

_But not for you_.

“Thank you, Mr. Riddle.”

Eden lifted her gaze from her fingers and stared at the two males when they came back to her. “How are you feeling?” Healer Jones asked.

She delicately shrugged a thin shoulder—Draco and Pansy had taken it upon themselves to teach her all of the etiquette her parents should have taught her. “My head still feels really foggy, like I’ve forgotten something super important, and it’s on the tip of my tongue, but, it no longer hurts.”

His lips pinched for a moment, and she prepared herself for the blow that was sure to come. Her arms lifted in front of her face, and she ducked her head away. “I’d like for you to take it easy for the rest of day, and then come see me again tomorrow.” Her arms lowered when she heard two pairs of footsteps take four steps back.

“Why?” Her body slowly relaxed the longer that they stayed completely loose, and relaxed, their expressions changing so rapidly, she couldn’t pinpoint an expression.

“You have some concerning signs, and I just want to make sure that they are nothing to worry about, alright?”

Eden hesitantly nodded. “Alright.”

“Come, Eden. I’ll take you to the common room,” Riddle said as he helped her off of the bed. The two made their way to the Slytherin common room—she only tripped twice (another record)—where he let them in and led her up to his dorm. He took her over to a neatly made bed and sat her down on it.

_Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm_

“Do you know why he wants to see me again tomorrow?” she asked softly as he sat down next to her.

“He told me that in his scans he found signs of abuse. He wants me to figure out who your family is so he can have an investigation done. Why…why are you crying?”

Eden sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “Because only two other people have wanted to look into my home life before. And, everyone who knows about it for sure, either can’t do anything about it, or they just don’t care.”

“Why can’t they do anything about it?”

“Because that’s how powerful my family is. No one would dare go up against them.” A yawn stretched her face and made her eyes water. “Besides, if what you and the newspaper said is true, then I am far, far away from them.”

“How far away are you, Eden?”

Eden was silent before another yawn took over. She curled up in a ball on the bed and breathed in the fresh scent of the linens, and something she couldn’t identify, but was slightly smoky. “They aren’t born yet,” she mumbled just before she fell asleep.

And just as quickly as she came, she was gone. 

* * *

_Friday, September 20, 1991_

_ Great Hall_

“M-Miss P-Potter?”

The girl flinched at his voice. Just where had she been in that beautifully vast mind of hers to not notice him? She _always_ seemed to be able to tell when he was nearby. “I-is e-e-everything a-alright?” he questioned softly.

She rapidly nodded her head. “Yes, Professor.”

His Master took control and they sat down on the bench next to her. He noticed with interest—did his Master notice too?—that she didn’t rub her chest like she usually did when they were near her. “Would you mind explaining why you’re still sitting at the table when it’s nearly an hour after dinner is over?”

He forgot the stutter.

He _always_ forgot the stutter.

How did he forget the stutter? It was _his_ idea!

His Master would ruin their cover if he _continued_ to _forget_ the **_stutter_**.

“Dinner is over?” she asked softly.

Agony ripped through his body when she looked at them. How did this small, underfed girl evoke such emotions from his Master?

“Yes, is something the matter?”

_Why_ did he make him come talk to her if he was just going to take over the moment they started conversing?

_And_ without the _stutter_.

She shook her head slowly. “No…. I just—I didn’t sleep well last night. I had a weird dream—” the look that crossed her face told them that it was not _just_ a dream “—and I’m worried that I’ll have it again.”

“Would you like to speak about it? I have found in my experience that talking about uncomfortable dreams tends to help us cope with them.”

_Please_, for the _love_ of **_Merlin_**, **_STUTTER_!**

His Master either didn’t pay attention to his desperate please, or thought them unwarranted—which they most _definitely_ were _not_.

She rapidly shook her head, her intense green eyes were wide with panic. “No. I think I’ll be going to the common room now. Thanks, Professor.”

They nodded their head and she was gone. He had never seen her run so fast before, and she always seemed to run out of his class. He was given control of his body back and he scowled at the stone wall.

_You forgot the stutter._

_Yes, you made sure I was well aware of that fact. I am also aware that Miss Potter didn’t notice._

He had no response to that. 

* * *

_Slytherin Girls First Year Dorm—2_

Eden glanced at the clock on her nightstand and sighed.

Why couldn’t it be morning by now? She had been sitting in bed for a little more than an hour as she read—attempted to do so—one of the books Uncle Sirius had gotten her. Normally she could sit down and read a book cover to cover with no problem, no matter the subject matter. Tonight, however, she could barely read a page at a time before her mind started to wander.

She climbed out of bed and went to her Trunk, her wand in one hand, and the book in the other. She tapped the holly wand to the top of her Trunk and whispered _anthenaeum_—the only _real_ password on her trunk—before she lifted the lid and descended into her library.

She was soon on the cobbled stone ground of the largest room as she moved to the corner to her right. Nestled against the wall were seven tall wooden bookcases that she had shrunk—she found the spell in the family library at home—and had moved inside.

On the shelves were 307 books, all sorted by subject matter, and none placed above eye-level. Once the school year was over, her school books would join their new family—she was a little frazzled. She put the animagus book where it belonged—with its siblings (help)—and began to look to pull a book out—perhaps fiction—when her name was called.

She quickly ran up the stairs and saw Pansy leaning over the opening. “You might not want to do that. I fell into a trunk doing that at home and got stuck.”

Her friend laughed before she helped her out of her library. “Is everything alright?” she asked as the lid closed behind her and latched itself.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve just been…I don’t know…out of it, I guess. All day long.”

“I’m fine. I just had a really weird dream last night and I don’t want to sleep.”

“Oh, okay. If you ever need me, you know I’m here, right.”

Eden nodded and hugged the taller girl. “Okay. Thank you, Pansy.”

“Of course.”

The two girls quickly went to their own beds and drew their curtain. Eden laid back and sighed.

Dang it.

She forgot a book. 

* * *

_Saturday, September 20, 1941_

_ Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm_

Eden opened her eyes and scowled at the fogginess in her head.

She looked around and furrowed her brows when she saw she was in what appeared to be a dorm room, although it had far too many beds to be a Slytherin dorm room—but if that was the case, why was everything green and silver?

There was a person in the room, and he sat at a desk as he did what appeared to be his homework. The bed to the left of his desk was the only neat one in the room.

“Who are you?” she asked. She stifled a giggle when he jumped and rapidly turned to see her.

“Eden?”

“Riddle?”

“What are you doing here?”

Eden shook her head and played with her fingers. “I have no idea. I don’t really remember what happened.”

Riddle sighed and motioned to his bed. “Sit down and tell me what you do remember.” He turned his chair towards her and gave her the impression that she had his full attention.

She told him, and flinched violently when he raised his hand to run it through his hair. “Why do you flinch every time I raise my hand or touch you?” She was quiet as she chewed on her cheek. “Eden?”

“Healer Jones told you why last time.”

“Yes…. I suppose he did tell me that yesterday.”

“So, it’s been a day?”

“Almost exactly, yes. What about you?”

Her left brow furrowed as she thought. “Yeah, I think it’s been a day as well. At least, I’m pretty sure. It happened just after I thought I went to sleep both times.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused it?”

Eden shook her head and looked away from his bright eyes and to her hands. She stroked the leather cuff that was just visible passed the edge of her charmed flannel pajamas. They had originally been red and gold—bought by her father for her birthday—but, after Pansy saw them and threw a fit, she—Pansy—took them to the seventh years and they were now silver and green with an adorable cartoon snake that slithered around the set.

“Where did you get that bracelet? It must be very special to you if you wear it while you sleep.”

Eden smiled softly, the first smile that she had given while in his presence. “My godfather…Padfoot, gave it to me. It has protection spells on it. It’s supposed to protect me from most basic spells learned at school.”

“Who names their child Padfoot?” He look appalled at the very thought.

She covered her mouth and giggled. She didn’t notice the softening in his eyes. “It’s a nickname.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Not telling.”

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes fondly. “Why did he give you such a powerful object?”

“He said he’s a worry wart and wants me to be protected because I’ll be somewhere where he can’t see me whenever he wants to. I think he either forgot or just decided to not mention the fact that he can’t do the same thing when I’m at the Manor either.”

“Why can’t be see you whenever he wants to when you’re at home?”

“Because whenever I’d have bursts of accidental magic and ended up breaking something, or did something my mother didn’t like, she’d either beat me, lock me up for days at a time, or both.” She tensed after she spoke and covered her mouth. “You can’t tell anyone!”

He smiled, and her panic calmed slightly. “Don’t worry, little one. There is no one I could tell that it would lead back to your parents.”

“But—what if you start coming to _my_ time?” she hissed desperately. “If you do, you need to promise me that you won’t tell anyone!”

Tom frowned and stared at her for a while before he sighed. “Fine. I promise that if I come to your time, I won’t tell anyone about how your mother treats you.”

“Thank you. When’s your birthday?” she asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

He allowed it. “December 31, 1926. What about you?

“July 31.”

“No year?”

“No year.”

“Dammit,” he hissed under his breath. Eden giggled softly, and he had the decency to look chagrined—however slight the emotion was. “How old are your parents?”

“Older than me.”

Riddle bared his teeth at her. “You’re being obtuse on purpose.”

“No. I’m only answering your questions.”

He opened his mouth to—most likely—snap something nasty back when he paused. “You clever little witch,” he stated with awe.

Eden blushed and looked down at her fingers. “What classes are you taking?”

And so they passed the time and learned about each other’s classes—favorites and hates—their interests, and hobbies. Eden skillfully—and sometimes bluntly—steered the conversation away from her home life and the future whenever he probed—which was far more often than she would have liked.

Far sooner than either of them wanted, she fell asleep and faded from view. 

* * *

_Saturday, September 21, 1991_

_ Slytherin Girls First Year Dorm—2_

“Eden, you should go to bed,” Pansy urged from her bed to Eden’s right, her own desk between the two girls.

“Is the light keeping you up?” she asked as she gestured to the little ball of light that hung above her essay. It was a handy spell that had been taught to all of the first years by a fifth year at the beginning of the year.

“No, I’m reading,” she started as she motioned to her own ball of light, “so, it’s not bothering me. You’re just falling asleep while you work, and I just think it would be better if you got in bed before you actually fall asleep.”

“I’m almost done though,” she whined softly, careful to not wake the other two occupants on the other side of the large, square room.

“Okay. Promise you’ll go to bed once you finish that essay?”

Eden nodded. “I promise.”

It was dangerous to make one of those in this part of the castle (especially when one was older, and could use magic to Seal the deal).

Fifteen minutes later, Pansy’s attention was once again pulled from her book when a dull thud reached her ears. She smiled softly at her sleeping friend and climbed out of bed to go get an older student to help her move her into her own bed.

* * *

_Sunday, September 21, 1941_

_ Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm_

Tom paused in writing his essay when a low groan reached his ears. He turned around and froze when he saw Eden standing there with her head tilted back as she rubbed her neck.

She wore what must have been part of the school uniform in her time. She had a tight white oxford shirt tucked into a short pleated black skirt that ended a few inches above her knees. The top two buttons were undone and showed her defined collarbone. She wore gray over the knee socks with a line of green and a line of silver at the tops. She had on a gray sweater with green and silver stripes at the wrists and neckline that was unbuttoned almost completely—the last two buttons were still done up—and hung off one shoulder. Her long dark hair was pulled up into a high pony tail with wisps of hair that framed her oval face.

The uniform was far more flattering in her time than it was in his, he realized as he stared at the small, pale strip of skin on her legs.

“Hi Riddle,” she said after a moment. Her hands were now on the back over her neck as she continued to rub it. Her head was tilted slightly to the side and she groaned again. “I need to listen to Pansy more. That essay isn’t due for another week. I could have finished it in the morning,” she murmured to herself.

“Are you alright? Are you injured?” Obviously he knew the answer already from what she had said, he just wanted to see if she would be honest with him.

“I don’t think so?” her voice squeaked slightly. “I fell asleep while working on a potion’s essay,” she replied as she looked at him. She tilted her head to the side. “What’s so funny?”

Damn.

Apparently biting his lips hadn’t been enough. His lips pulled down a bit before he smiled softly. “Nothing. You just have a little…something.” He motioned to her face. She started to wipe furiously at her skin. His amusement increased as he stood and walked towards her. “You’re making it worse, dear.”

She stopped in her frantic wiping. “What is it?”

“It appears to be ink.” He examined it closer, her delicate chin held softly in his hand, and he ignored the way she flinched when he grabbed her. “It’s quite a beautiful shade, it matches your eyes,” he complimented before he vanished it with a flick of his wand.

“My godmother, Wings, gave it to me.”

He frowned slightly. He again ignored her flinch. “Another nickname?”

Eden grinned. “See? You’re catching on!” she cheered. He scowled before he gently released her chin and stepped back.

“Is Eden even your real name?”

She looked slightly uncomfortable. “It’s my preferred name,” her voice rose at the end and cracked. When his left eyebrow rose, she answered, more than slightly defensive. “Look, it’s my middle name. It’s the _only_ name you’re going to be getting out of me, so _please_ stop asking.”

“What about Pansy?”

“Dammit,” she hissed.

“Language, Eden dear.”

She glared at him. It was on par with a cuddly teddy bear, and looked quite adorable while she did so. “Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit.”

Cute.

He flicked his wand and she was on his bed, shrieking with laughter. “Riddle! Please stop!” she begged through gales of laughter.

“Will you watch your language?”

“Yes! I swear! I mean—no—I won’t swear!” He chuckled before he canceled the charm and sat next to her.

“I have a couple of questions for you, dear, and don’t worry, they won’t anything that can endanger the future.”

“Okie doki.”

His lips pulled into an unwilling smile. “What time was it when you fell asleep?”

“Uhm…I think it was around 11…maybe a little later. Why?”

He checked his watch. “It is 11:17 and you’ve been here for about 10 minutes.”

“Why did you want to know?”

“Well, the last thing you remember is falling asleep, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I think that every time you sleep, you come here.” He paused in thought for a moment. “Do you only sleep for two or three hours?”

She shook her head. “No. When I wake up its morning, and I’m completely refreshed.”

“So, time passes by differently here than when you’re there.”

“I guess. Do you think this will happen every time I sleep now?”

“I believe so.”

“I wonder why it’s happening so suddenly.”

“I don’t have any idea as to why, but, since it seems like when it’s night there, it’s day here, so I believe you might be appearing in my classes more often than not, so, I think we ought to try and figure out how to keep you unseen.”

“I could just pretend to be lost and leave.”

“The professors would get suspicious, besides, I’m not letting you wander around the castle without me.”

“Why not? I do it every time I’m awake.” He ignored the slight panic that statement ensued.

“Because, it’s obvious that for whatever reason you’re being sent back here, it’s connected to the two of us.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “And that makes you mine. And, I don’t like not protecting things that are mine.”

“I’m not a thing.”

Tom smiled charmingly at her. “No, little one, you’re not. But, you are still mine.” She sent that cute little glare at him to which he responded by running his hand through her hair and tugged slightly. The ponytail must be charmed to stay in place….

“Now, here are our options of keeping you hidden…” 

* * *

_S__unday, September 22, 1991_

_ Owlery_

_Dear Narcissa,_

_ Thank you for the sweets. They were absolutely delicious. Where did you get them?_

_ School is going well. Draco and I decided to explore each other’s Trunks yesterday and we got lost in one of the rooms in my Trunk. I was practicing a spell while in my dorm a week ago, and cast it wrong, and it ended up hitting the Trunk in the backfire. Did you know that a mispronounced _Lapifors_ spell creates a fifteen foot tall stone labyrinth? Draco and I weren’t until yesterday. Pansy, Daphne, Flint, and Montague had to come rescue us._

_ I hope I remember which room it’s in. I think it might be the eleventh room? I’m not entirely sure. I’m just grateful that I hadn’t decided on a use for the room yet, so it was empty._

_ Do you think that you and Lucius might be able to find a spell that could remove it and send it to me? I’ll look in the library here, but, I’m not entirely sure what to look for. Do you think there’s a book titled _How to Remove the Stone Labyrinth You Accidently Created in Your Stupidly Big Trunk_? If so, it would be much appreciated to find. I might just leave it, depending on what I could do with it now that I think about it._

_ The true reason of this letter, is not only a response to your last letter, but, I have a question. I was wondering if there is any way for me to buy clothes while I’m here at school. Perhaps a catalogue of some sorts? I’ve seen Pansy with one, but, I didn’t know how to go about asking about it. I’m not as comfortable with her as I am with you._

_ I’ve decided that I want another set of pajamas because the pair that Pansy had the seventh years spell is wearing off and getting itchy as it’s doing so._

_ I dunno… I guess I just felt awkward asking about it. You’re like the mother I wish I always had, and so, I guess I feel more comfortable asking you about things like that._

_ Also, how would payment work with that? The clothing, I mean. I don’t know how I could ever repay you and Auntie Mariea for being better mothers to me than my own._

_ I’m rambling._

_With all my love,_

_ Eden_

Eden looked over her letter and squashed the guilt for the lie she had to tell. While the charms on the Slytherin pajamas were indeed wearing off, it wasn’t itchy or uncomfortable. She briefly wondered if she should thank them again for everything they did for her while in Diagon Alley and decided against it. She was afraid that the threat of a howler was very real in that case.

She eventually decided that the third draft would be the final draft, and attached it to a black school owl and sent it off.

_Slytherin Common Room_

“…Ouch.”

Those who were still in the common room just before midnight laughed at the delayed reaction of the first year.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked his friend. She yawned and nodded sleepily.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You can go to bed,” he urged softly.

Eden shook her head and they played a couple more rounds of Exploding Snap before she tipped over on the floor in the middle of her turn, dead asleep.

Flint laughed softly so as to not wake her, and gently picked her up and moved her to the couch in front of the fire. A well placed glare cleared it of all other occupants—not that it was needed. A seventh year flicked her wand, and one of the pillows by her feet was transfigured into a thick, fluffy blanket, and she was tucked in by a sixth year boy who had five younger siblings.

She had quickly become the baby of Slytherin, which prompted almost all of the other students in her House to take care of her.

“She deserves to be treated like this all of the time, not just while she’s at school,” Draco stated wistfully as he stared at his best friend.

“What do you mean?”

It was clear he was uncomfortable at the questioned, but at the annoying urges of the older students, he relented and spoke. “We—my parents and I—think she might be abused at home. Quite severely. I heard my parents talked about it often after we took her shopping for her school things in Diagon. She also hates being touched, and sudden movements make her flinch. That’s just what I’ve noticed though.”

“Where was her family when you were at Diagon?”

Draco sneered. “They forgot about her. They were too busy preening in the spotlight that Potter exudes.”

The students sneered and all vowed—silently (until they got to their own dorms)—to protect her as best they could, even more than they already were.

By the next morning, word had spread to the rest of the House, and everything had changed for Eden (but she didn’t realize it). 

* * *

_Monday, September 22, 1941_

_ Great Hall_

When Eden next opened her eyes, she was in the great hall.

It seemed to be the end of a meal—lunch if what they hypothesized was correct. She leaned against the wall behind the Slytherin table and searched. When her eyes found her target, she couldn’t help but brighten slightly.

She crouched down and made her way over to him, hoping that what little control she had over her magic was at least adverting people’s eyes from her. It was similar to a notice-me-not charm and Riddle had made her practice it both with her wand and without her wand yesterday. One _obviously_ worked better than the other.

She grabbed the edge of his robes in her hand and tugged slightly. His wand flashed and the sensation of something dripping down her head rolled over her. It made her shiver and want to vomit, and she decided then and there that whatever spell he had cast on her was a big no-no. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were invisible, with a very faint line only visible if she were really looking for it.

The Disillusionment spell _sucked_.

She stood and before she could take a step back to give him some space, his hand wrapped around her finger tips. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check to make sure I have everything I need for potions,” he said to those he was eating with. He stood and pulled her close to him and led her out of the great hall and towards the dungeons. “You’re late,” he muttered so softly she could barely hear him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was playing Exploding Snap with Dra…Dragon. I fell asleep while we were playing.”

“I was worried.”

“Why?”

He pushed her into an unused classroom and removed the Disillusionment spell. “I told you: you’re mine. I don’t want to lose you. But, now that you’re here, I can stop worrying.”

Eden glared at him. “I’m not an object to be owned.”

Riddle smiled and pulled her close. He wrapped his arms around her; her face was buried in his chest. Was he _trying_ to suffocate her? “You’re right, little one. You’re a _witch_ to be owned. You’re _my_ witch to be owned.

“Ri-Riddle—can’t—breathe!” she gasped—she only exaggerated slightly. He chuckled before he pulled away enough to allow her to breathe. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Come, you’ll be joining me in potions today.”

“Do I have to?”

He gently flicked her nose and caused it to twitch as she glared at him. “Of course, we already discussed this, dear.”

She remembered a lot less _discussing_ and more _informing_ in that conversation.

She sighed and nodded her head. “Fine. But after class you have to explain everything I don’t understand.”

Riddle smiled at her and stroked her loose hair. “I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, the story begins. 
> 
> Now, some slight spoilers... Professor Squirrel. They don't have any other written interactions in the main fic, and, well...due to some comments, I've had an idea percolating. 
> 
> A small (knowing me it'll probably be 6,000+ words) one shot just encasing Eden's first years, and some of the main interactions between Quirrelmort and Eden. They would all mostly be from Squirrel's POV just because...spoilers. I dunno. Lemme know what you think.


	6. 5 Taking Away the Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me.
> 
> Quick note: Aer is pronounced Ear.

_Wednesday, January 21, 1942_

_ Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm_

Eden’s entire body ached as she sat on the floor of the dark room.

She shifted slightly and bit her lip as pain shot through her back and side. She sighed softly as she leaned her head back against the side of Tom’s bed.

No matter how many times she came at night, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to sitting in the dark while 11 boys slept around her—the four to a room rule didn’t come about until the 80’s. Sometimes she’d be able to read one of his books, but, she hurt too much to move if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

How long had she been there?

A glance at her watch—which she immediately regretted at pain rippled through her body—told her she had been there for a little over an hour. It was shaping up to be one of her longest nightly visits yet.

A shift in the bed to the right of Tom’s—to _her_ right—had her holding her breath.

There were seven feet in between each of the beds, and it was quite dark, and she was quite small. If he didn’t light his wand, she’d remain unseen, even if he climbed out on the side she was on. But, if he lit his wand, she’d be completely screwed. The best case scenario would be that he just shifted and had gone back to bed.

Would luck _finally_ be on her side for once?

Dammit.

Of course not.

She bit her lip until it bled and slowly climbed backwards into Tom’s bed. He’d gotten out on the opposite side, but lit his wand. While she still probably could have blended in due to her black yoga pants and long sleeved shirt—her new nightwear (they were charmed to grow with her, expensive but nice)—she couldn’t take that risk.

“Eden?” The soft murmur came as she carefully closed the hangings behind her and the light from Abraxas’—that was his name, wasn’t it?—wand faded behind the thick fabric.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to be seen by your roommate.”

“What are you doing here?” he groaned, his voice thick with sleep. He sat up and pushed his hair out of his face. That was probably the _one_ good thing that came from her sleeping during the day in her time. He proved he was human who had normal human flaws and tendencies—they just faded when he really woke up. “If you’re here at night, that means you fell asleep during the day…and it’s a…Tuesday for you.”

Eden played with her fingers and tried to push the pain to the back of her mind as he moved once more. “Would you believe me if I said I fell asleep during class?”

The look she received was answer enough.

Her heart sank as he cast a few spells in soft murmurs under his breath before he cast a _lumos_. He was out from under the covers and had his hand wrapped around the back of her neck faster than she could blink. “**What happened**?” he hissed. His face was contorted into a snarl as he scanned her face.

“**Well**…**you** **see**…I’m not really well liked…. I was kind of in the wrong place…at the wrong time…with the wrong people.” Really, it was she had to go to the hospital wing with Pansy—she had begged her to come, and then Madam P sent her away after Pansy was diagnosed with the flu—and a pack of Gryffindor’s found her when she was on the seventh floor a few hallways away from the hospital wing.

His eyes flashed with anger and he sneered. “Yes, I can tell.” She flinched away. He took a deep breath and the anger faded only slightly, and she relaxed only a bit. “Do you mind if I try and heal some of these?”

“Can you?”

He gently flicked her nose. “Of course I can, little one. I just wanted to make sure that it was okay with you before I did so.”

Eden scrunched her nose and nodded. “Then yes, please.” He lifted his wand and a thought occurred to her. “Can you even heal me? I mean, I’m not really here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my body is still in my present, so, I guess, I’m some kind of…_thing_ here in the past.”

His brows furrowed as he thought. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

He started chanting words that she’d never heard before, and soon a dark red mist oozed out of the tip of his wand and wrapped around her. Panic clouded her mind and she tried to pull away—what if it _hurt_ her? It didn’t look the same as the blue mist her mother used on her, but—

A gentle squeeze on the back of her neck had her meeting Tom’s eyes, and at the reassurance she saw in them, she knew she was safe. He would never hurt her. The mist hovered over the cuts on her face, and the injuries on her side and back.

The repeating words suddenly changed, and with them the pitch and feel of the air around them. The mist started to glow a bright red—she never looked away from his eyes (she couldn’t, lest she panic again)—before it seeped into her skin. Fire burned hot and bright in her very soul before the pain faded, and with it, the taste of blood. She collapsed forward onto Tom as he slumped backwards as he panted heavily.

She tried to move away and off of his chest, but her body felt like liquid. She tried to roll off of him, and had almost succeeded when his loose grip tightened minutely. “Stay,” he murmured softly.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

The hand on the back of her neck stroked her skin weakly. “I’ll be fine, little one.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He chuckled and with a wince and a grunt, pulled her closer to him. Her head now rested on his neck and she could feel his faint pulse against her lips. “I’m fine, little one. I’m just drained.”

“How?”

“You had more injuries than I anticipated,” he explained. “It’s entirely my fault. I should have checked you over completely before casting such a powerful spell.”

“What was that?”

“_Medela Aer_. The Healing Mist. It’s a Dark healing spell, and heals most, if not all, injuries without any lasting damage.”

Eden’s left brow furrowed before she snuggled into his warm embrace. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could—which wasn’t very tight at all. “Why is it considered evil if it’s so useful?”

Tom sighed and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Not all Dark magic is evil, Eden. Dark magic has been labeled as evil because it uses so much power to cast a simple spell. Dark magic is what it is, because only those with Dark type Cores can cast it safely, and not very many people have Dark enough Cores to do that.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do, silly little girl,” he admonished softly. “You worry too much.”

“You’re my best friend, of course I’ll worry about you.” The two lay in silence for a while and just took in the comfort of the other’s presence while they gained back their energy. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked after 30 minutes of silence.

He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. “No, little one. Just rest will help.” He pulled his blanket over the two of them and held her close as he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. “I think you’ve gotten taller,” he muttered softly.

Eden smiled against his neck. “I’ve grown an inch since I started school. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“How tall are you now?”

“4’6.”

“You’re nearly the same height as a goblin,” he teased.

“I am not! …They’re an inch shorter than I am.”

Tom laughed and ran his hands up and down her sides softly. She yawned and curled closer into him. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered softly.

Another kiss was pressed to her hair. “I know. But, you’ll be back soon enough.” She yawned again and her eyes watered. She curled against him and as her eyes closed, she gripped the fabric over his shoulder tightly. “Sleep, my little one. Sleep, and soon you shall see me again.”

She gave into the darkness that insistently tugged at her, and he sighed as her comforting weight faded away. 

* * *

_Wednesday, February 12, 1992_

_ Hogwarts, Exact Location Unknown_

The last thing she saw before the painful darkness took over, was the heavy classroom door as it slammed shut, and obnoxiously bright hair.

* * *

_T_ _hursday, February 12, 1942_

_ Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm_

Tom awoke to the sound of soft sniffles.

He held his breath for a short moment to see if it was his imagination. When the sound reached his ears once more, he pulled back the dark emerald hangings and frowned when his eyes fell upon Eden, curled in a ball on the floor, four feet from his bed.

He threw his covers off of him and left from the bed silently and knelt down next to her. “Eden?” he whispered desperately.

Her head turned to look at him, and when he saw the pure agony in her eyes, he swore then and there that he would kill every single person who dared to lay their hands upon her. “T-Tom,” she whimpered. “It h-hurts s-so m-much!” Fresh tears spilled down her face as she looked at him.

“I’m going to get you on my bed, but, I’ll need to cast a spell on you to do so,” he whispered. He had learnt early on that he needed her permission to do so—he hoped one day she would be able to trust him. She hesitantly nodded her head and he cast a silencing charm before he lifted her into his arms. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream and stayed open long after he put her down. Fat tears rolled down her face in thick rivers.

He carefully climbed onto the bed next to her and shut his hangings and the silencing wards activated. He removed the silencing spell on Eden, and immediately wished that he had never done something so foolish.

Her screams shattered his heart and made his head ache. “Eden, little one. I need you to look at me, Eden,” he soothed as he cupped her bloody face in his hands. Her wet eyes met his and his heart broke even more. “What happened?”

“I-I-I w-was a-a-ambush-shed,” she stuttered. “I h-hurt so m-much, T-Tom!”

Blind rage fueled by panic filled his body. “_Please_ tell me you’re in the hospital wing, Eden.”

She barely shook her head. “I-I wa-wasn’t when I-I pa-passed out. T-They a-attacked m-me in an abandoned c-c-classroom.”

His magic filled the small space in a violent wave. “I’m going to try and heal you, Eden.”

She winced as she started to rapidly shake her head. “No!”

“Why not? Eden, you’re _bleeding_. I _need_ to heal you.”

“N-Not _Medela Aer_.”

He frowned. “It’s the only one that I can be sure will help you.”

Eden grappled for his hand and held it tightly once she had it in her grasp. Her pain faded slightly as their magic started to naturally mingle—she didn’t know that was the reason though. “There are too many injuries for you to use it safely.”

He waved his wand over her and he sighed at whatever information he was given on the parchment that appeared next to his head. “I’m going to kill whoever did this to you.”

“Heal first, kill later,” she bit out.

Tom chuckled and started healing her. After what felt like an agonizing eternity later, he stopped. "I can't do anything about the bones,” he said after a moment of staring at her. Agony was clear in his voice and eyes. “If you’ll let—”

“No! I don’t want to do that to you again. It took you _three_ days to heal completely from that,” she insisted through the pain.

Hard emeralds met icy diamonds before the ice melted and left a violently thrashing ocean in its wake. Tom sighed and laid down and gently pulled her close to him. She cried out and sobbed into his chest as he slowly wrapped her in his arms and started to speak to her.

She didn’t understand what he said to her. She could barely hear his smooth voice over the anguish that pounded in her ears in time with her heart. Soon, however, the pain faded just a little…just enough so that she was able to hear his voice as he spoke. She couldn’t understand the words, and was only able to hear the cadences of his soothing murmurs.

His hand was on the back of her neck. His fingers rubbed soothing shapes—she was sure that in some part of her mind that they were healing runes of some sort—that slowly led her into a state of relaxation. She then fell into a natural trance where she wasn’t quite awake, but not yet quite asleep either. “Little one?” Her eyebrows twitched in acknowledgement, but her eyes stayed closed as she relaxed even further into his comforting embrace.

He took a deep breath, murmured something under his breath—it sounded similar to how he apologized (why would he apologize?)—and pulled her close to him. She cried out, and due to the pain and tears that dripped out of her closed eyes, was oblivious to when he started the rhythmic chanting. Was blinded to the red fog that slowly wrapped around her arms, ribs, and legs. Remained ignorant to the flash of red. Her eyes snapped open and widened as familiar fire ate away at her soul before it faded away along with the pain.

Tom lay next to her and panted harshly as her body became numb and liquid. “How could you?” she demanded softly into his chest.

“How could I not?” 

* * *

_Thursday, June 4, 1992_

_ Hogwarts, Exact Location Unknown_

Fire.

Pain.

Burning flesh.

_Nothing_.

* * *

_Thursday, June 4, 1942_

_ Slytherin Boy’s Fourth Year Dorm_

Eden stumbled as muffled and frantic shouts reached her ringing ears.

She pressed her aching hands to them and crouched down and rocked back and forth on her heels.

Why?

Why couldn’t she remember?

What had she been doing before?

_Where was she?_

“Eden. _Eden_, come on, little one. Look at me.” Distraught words slowly reached her hazy mind and she looked up and came face to face with Tom. Horrifying, truth defying memories came soaring back, and then they disappeared as quickly as they came and left her empty and bereft. “What’s wrong?” he demanded once she dropped her hands.

“I don’t remember.”

His eyes widened almost comically. “Eden, what do you not remember?” The panic he felt was clear on his face.

“What was I doing before I came here?”

This hadn’t happened since early October. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

She closed her eyes and thought long and hard, her left eyebrow furrowed as she did so. Her lips pulled to the left in a pinched frown. “I was in the library, but, that doesn’t sound right.” She put the backs of her aching hands against her forehead and moaned. “I _know_ I wasn’t in the library before.”

“Eden!” his voice was panicked. “Why are your hands burnt? _Answer me, Eden_!”

She looked at her charred hands and frowned, and again, the blurred memories that changed everything she thought she knew flashed before her mind before they faded away once more. “I don’t remember, Tom. _I don’t remember_.” She cast her gaze around and saw that they were alone in his dorm room. “What time is it?”

“Just after 8 in the morning.”

Faint images blurred across her vision once more.

_…oh, the plans…_

They made no sense.

_Why did they make no sense?_

She wanted to scream at the world and destroy everything in her path until she understood what had happened, and what those blank images in her mind meant.

“Eden, come back to me, please.”

Hands were in her short hair; ran up and down her back; cupped her cheeks; stroked her arms; held her hands. Fingers wiped away tears that burned; massaged her neck; intertwined with her own.

“Three headed dog. A Cerberus, I think.”

“I’m going to need a little more context, little one.”

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed. _Me too, buddy, me too_. “I was with Bunny and two of his friends—”

“I thought they hated you.”

“So did I…. I’m not entirely sure why I was following them, but, they found me in the library and Bunny practically forced me to go with him. The last thing I clearly remember is a Cerberus in the forbidden—why were we in the corridor that’s blocked to students?”

Tom laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have no idea. Are you injured anywhere else, my dear?” She shook her head, and, despite her adamant protests, and lunges for his wand, he healed her with _Medela Aer_ after he spelled her to the closed door.

After the fire faded and her arms became numb from the elbow down, she expected to see him panting on the ground, but instead only saw him as a little paler than usual as he smiled down at her. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted that you thought I would be weakened by that, or preening like Abraxas at the impressed gaze in your eyes,” he stated joyfully, and only a little breathless.

“How about both. Did your Core have another Growth Spurt again?”

His Core was almost always growing—like all witches and wizards (his just grew at a faster pace)—and every once in a while—every two months about—it would spike to exponential proportions. She had decided to name them, and the name bothered him, so it stuck. He told her that she had Growth Spurts too, but, she didn’t believe him. She knew—_thought_—her Core was just like everyone else’s.

He rolled his eyes with an incline of his head. “Yes, it did. But you also had significantly less injuries than usual, so, not as much magic was used. Smile, little one. I’m fine, and you’re fine, and that’s all that matters in this world.”

“What about power?”

“And power. We definitely can’t forget power. Now smile before I make you.”

She scowled at him before she relented when his lips twitched and his left eyebrow rose. “So, what classes are we attending today?”

“What do you mean?” Normally, if she fell asleep before 9 and it wasn’t planned, she just stayed in his room while he went to class because she typically didn’t stay long.

“Well, I have no idea how long I’ll be here for, it’s obviously morning, and it’s a…Thursday? The leap year is throwing me off, man.”

“Correct.” He tapped his wand on the top of her head when her own spell failed. “We need to start working on that,” he said with a click of his tongue. “Do you practice at all when you’re awake?”

She shook her head (she momentarily forgot he couldn’t see her). “No. I have homework, and, I’ve been looking into other forms of invisibility in my free time. Forms that don’t involve me wanting to vomit or gouge your eyes out.”

They had tried that spell once, and had never looked back.

He shivered as he chuckled softly. He led her out of the room and to the great hall so he could eat. “What have you been looking into?”

“Invisibility Runes,” she stated, and then hesitated.

“What else, Eden?” Why did he know her so well? “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

She pulled him to a stop and whispered in his ear. “Blood Magic.”

He straightened and whistled low. “Impressive. During break we’ll talk about what you’ve researched.”

“_After_ you explain the things I don’t understand.” She grabbed onto the right sleeve of his robes as they entered the great hall.

“Deal.”

He sat down at the table and Eden moved her hands to rest on his shoulders while he ate and spoke with his housemates, the memories long forgotten, buried deep in her subconscious.

She was perhaps only truly happy when she was with Tom.

* * *

_Tuesday, June 30, 1942_

_ Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm_

Before Eden could open her eyes, she was wrapped in a familiar embrace. She welcomed the warmth he brought and returned the hug with equal fervor. “Are you alright?” he demanded as he pulled away from her and started to check her over for injuries.

Eden laughed and nodded as she swatted his hands away. “I’m fine. I just had some trouble sleeping is all.”

This didn’t seem to reassure him and he continued his search for injuries despite her many protests. “Why couldn’t you sleep? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head with a fond smile. “No. Nothing like that. I’m just scared.”

Blue diamonds met green emeralds in understanding. “Of going home?”

“Yeah. I’m more scared that this has all been a dream though…. That I made you up, and that I won’t ever see you again.” He pulled his wand and sent a shocking hex at her, and when her bracelet absorbed it, pinched her. “What the bloody hell was that for?” she demanded as he grinned.

He was entirely too proud in her opinion.

“Just proving to you that this isn’t a dream, little one.” He pinched her again.

She glared and swatted at him and smirked victoriously when he rubbed his hand. “What was _that_ for?”

“Language,” he replied simply.

He had to be joking.

_His _language was worse than _her_ language—because of _him_, she swore _more_. She scowled at him, opened her mouth, and out streamed a long, vile recitation of the seventh years’ favorite words. She yelped when she was suddenly picked up, thrown over his shoulder, and then tossed onto his bed where he hovered over her and started to tickle her mercilessly.

“Stop!” she shrieked through her maniacal giggles.

“Never!”

The refusal to stop tickling her let to a very intense tickle war between the eleven year old and fifteen year old. “Stop, Tom! Please!” she wailed, her words slurred with laughter.

“Will you stop swearing?” he demanded through his own laughter. He finally pinned her hands above her head in one of his own, and continued his assault on her sides. She thrashed wildly to try and offset him by kicking him, but ultimately failed.

“Yes!”

“Forever?”

Cheeky bastard.

“You know I can’t promise that!” Tears streamed down her face, and her stomach spasmed as laughter shook her small frame.

Tom ceased his tickling and stared down at her, a fond smile on his face as he tucked a lock of short hair behind her ear. “I guess that’s the best I’ll get out of you, isn’t it.”

Eden smiled up at him as she panted heavily and the occasional giggle left her mouth. “Yeah, it is. Besides, your world would become dull if I curbed my tongue. I mean, if I did, you’d never get to hear me call Abraxas a ‘Peacock Bastard’ again.” The name had come about when Tom implied that Abraxas had at least one peacock for a parent—she knew he didn’t because she had met him in her time (and she whole-heartedly agreed with the assessment he had made).

He groaned and collapsed on the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re right.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that puffed out of her lips. “Wow. Tom Marvolo Riddle, admitting someone else is right. The world must be coming to an end,” she teased and poked his cheek.

He playfully bit the tip of her finger, and when she pulled that away, the tip of her small nose. He earned a squeak from her throat as she pulled back and the scrape of his teeth against her skin caused her eyes to water. He soothed the skin with a soft kiss. “No, little one. Not the world, only the school year.”

With those words, the sadness that permeated their meeting returned from the always visible shadows. “Do you think I could just fall into a coma and stay here forever?” she asked softly. She pushed him over so he was on his back and curled up into a ball. Her head rested on his chest, while her hand rested over his steady heart. She pushed down firmly and let the rhythm ease the tightness in her shoulders.

Tom kissed her forehead and placed a hand on her own, and ran the ringers of his right hand through her hair. “I don’t think so, little one.”

“Why not?”

“Because your body needs nutrients that you’re unable to get here, you can’t eat or drink while you’re here, remember? Besides, we don’t even know if you’d _be _here if you were in a coma.”

Eden curled further into his embrace. “I just don’t want to leave you. I don’t want you to be part of my imagination.”

The winter break had been long enough without Tom. Her parents had forced her to come home, and that was the first time that she wished her family celebrated Yule instead of Christmas. At least then 12 of the days would be filled with various rituals, celebrations, and balls instead of just one.

She could barely handle the four weeks without him, locked in the attic with nothing to do but explore and think of him, and manically wonder if he was real or not. She didn’t think she could handle two months without him.

“You’ll be back, my little one,” he whispered softly.

Even though the words had gone unspoken, the two children heard them perfectly clear, for they were both thinking similar things.

_You have to come back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it.  
I feel kind of obligated to say that this fic doesn't actually focus on the first three years of school.... I so sorry. I hope that you guys like it the way that it's been planned, and when things are mentioned later in the fic, or randomly, if you request it, I might write a one shot of that day/moment. I don't know.  
I've kind of hit a huge writers block, and that's why I started posting it because I always get inspiration to write whenever I post...so...yeah. My update schedule is weekly, and is apparently turning from every Sunday to late every Saturday. (I have no self control to wait for Sunday--even Saturday is hard).


	7. 6 The Summer of 1992

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me.  
PS: Happy birthday, Hermione

_July 5—11, 1992_

_ Potter Manor_

The first time that her father hit her, Eden was too shocked to do anything other than stand there and stare at him with wide eyes that quickly filled with tears.

She had been asking him if she could go spend some time with Pansy and Draco in Diagon Alley with some other Slytherin’s. He had become tense, and before she could stop speaking and retract what she had said, the familiar pain had blossomed on her cheek.

Only…somehow…it hurt far more than any of her mother’s blows or curses ever could. It hurt far deeper, and the blow seemed to reach her very soul.

The first time that her father hit her, was the first time that Eden locked herself in her room.

_Potter Manor, Attic_

She had been sorting through books she had found in a trunk in the back of the attic when she heard faint tapping on the window above her bed. She stood from the dusty, book covered floor and ran over to the noise. She climbed onto the chaise longue and forced the rusty window open.

A beautiful gray owl soared into the room and flew around the high rafters for a moment before it came to land on the edge of her bed. She crouched from her perch on the arm rest and took the offered letter from its extended leg.

_Dearest Eden,_

_ How has your summer been so far? I hope it has been well._

_ We would like to invite you over for dinner soon. Perhaps we could also go shopping that day as well. I have always wanted a daughter to take shopping. We could make it a day event. You and I, how does that sound, Eden?_

_ I hope to hear back soon,_

_ With love,_

_ Narcissa_

Eden wiped at the tears that stubbornly refused to stay in her eyes and smiled. She quickly got off of the furniture and ran over to her Trunk, and into her office. The owl followed after her and perched on the back of her chair before she reached the bottom of the steps.

She sat down at her desk, careful to not jostle the owl, and pulled out parchment, a crystal quill, and the bottle of emerald ink that Aunt Mariea had given her. Once all her supplies were gathered, and the owl peered over her shoulder, she began to write back to Narcissa.

_Dear Narcissa,_

_ My summer has had a few surprises, but, other than that, it’s nothing I wasn’t expecting, unfortunately._

_ Dinner and shopping would be absolutely lovely. I’ll have to see when I can get out of the house though._

_ Do you think we could perhaps stop by Flourish and Blott’s if we are able to go shopping? There are a couple of subjects that I desperately want and need to research, but, I seem to be unable to find anything useful in the Potter Manor or Hogwarts Library._

_ I hope to hear back soon, and I hope to have an answer for you as well._

_ Love,_

_ Eden_

Eden waved her wand over the parchment, and the ink dried in silence. She smiled at the small success—she had started to practice during the Yule holiday’s to do it non-verbally (she hoped to be able to do it wandless by the same time next year)—and quickly put it in an envelope before the owl guided her out of the Trunk.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have any treats for you,” she apologized as she pet the soft breast feathers. The creature cooed under her touch and she smiled softly—it seemed almost as if her cheeks had forgotten how (it was the first she had smiled since she got back from school). She ignored the dull pain in her left cheek at the movement, and giggled when the owl nipped her fingers affectionately. She tied the envelope onto its leg and spoke, “Can you take this to Narcissa?”

The owl cooed once more before it took off through the open window. Eden closed the opening and hesitantly made her way down to her father’s study.

_Study_

She knocked softly on the door and entered when allowed. “Hi…dad.”

“Noah.” He put down his papers and stared at her. His eyes were no longer filled with the familiar warmth and care that used to gaze at her, instead guilt and apathy were there. “What do you want?” Gone as well was the warmth and soothing cadences of his voice. She flinched slightly and closed her eyes for a moment before she gathered up what little courage she possessed and spoke.

“I, uh—I was wondering if…maybe…. Maybe I could go spend some time with some friends…sometime this next week,” she asked, careful to not mention any names. The dark bruise on her cheek was a sharp reminder that names were a _very_, Very Bad thing.

“What would you be doing?”

This was good. He seemed to be at least _open_ to the idea of her spending time with people outside of the house.

“We’d go shopping, and then I’d have dinner with them.”

His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, Noah. Who are they?”

“Some friends from school. They’re a very respectable family.” Their definitions of respectable differed greatly in this sense. He opened his mouth to protest, and she forced her eyes to fill with tears as she dug a nail into one of the welts on her back—a welcome home gift from mother. “Please, papa,” his eyes filled with slight warmth, “Leif's been with his friends every day this summer. I’m just asking for _one_ day.”

He sighed and the warmth faded slightly. “You realize you’d have to floo, correct?”

Eden paled, but nodded. “I can do that.” She didn’t _want_ to do it, but, she could if that was a requirement, and it seemed that it was—flooing was the second worst method of travel for her (the boats being a first, and was closely followed by broom).

His eyes widened slightly. “You’re really that desperate to spend time with your friend?”

“Yes, papa. It gets lonely up in the attic.”

Heartstrings pulled? Come on…come on…. Yes! Success.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Do you still have money left over from when you went school shopping last year?”

She inclined her head. “Yes, some of it.” Most of it. She had only spent 15 more galleons of the 100,000 she had withdrawn.

He waved his wand and his papers put themselves away as he stood. “Come. We’re going to get you some more.” Eden blinked rapidly at this change of events, but shrugged with a twitch of her lips once his back was turned and followed after him.

He led her out of the house and to the apparation point just beyond the wrought iron gates. He concealed the bruise on her cheek and lifted her into his arms, and with a loud pop, the two were gone.

_Diagon Alley_

Her father didn’t pause like he normally did after they apparated—didn’t give her time to decide if she needed to be sick or not—nor did he soothe her back like usual. As soon as they landed, he immediately carried her to Gringotts, and put her down when they were inside the lobby. She wobbled and he quickly pulled her to one of the counters, and she turned away from him and crossed her arms over her stomach.

As he dealt with the goblin, Eden stared around the lobby and smiled and waved to those who she knew from school. “Little Eden,” Montague said fondly as he walked up to her and ruffled her shoulder-length hair.

“Hey! Monty!” she whined softly as she patted her hair down. “That’s mine.”

He took the silky locks into his Quidditch calloused fingers. “But, it’s so fun to play with.”

_Not anymore it’s not_, she thought viciously. Instead of voicing her thoughts, she giggled and the two chatted for a few minutes before a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She flinched and closed her eyes and awaited the blows that were sure to follow. “Noah. Do you know this…boy?”

She bit her lip as she looked at Monty before she adverted her gaze to the ground. “Yes, father. He’s a friend from school.”

The hand tightened painfully for a short moment before her father extended his other hand to her classmate. Her eyes shot up to watch the exchange. “It’s a _pleasure_ to meet you,” he said stiffly. The tightness of the hand on her shoulder and the sneer in his voice assured the two snakes that it most definitely was _not_ a pleasure.

Monty smiled—was it just her, or did he seem abnormally tense?—and returned the grip. He seemed to squeeze just as tightly as her father. “The pleasure is all mine, sir—” at least he made it _believable_ “—your daughter is a joy to be around. In fact, she’s got all of us wrapped around her little fingers, and I doubt she even knows it.”

“No I don’t,” she protested softly which both males ignored—was this some kind of…_pissing?_ contest over her?

The hand tightened and she couldn’t help the small whimper that left her throat. Monty’s eyes immediately shot to first her face and then the hand, and his eyes narrowed slightly before his Mask was put back into place. “She is, isn’t she?” Her father didn’t seem to notice the slip. “Come, Noah, we have business to take care of.”

There was most definitely going to be a bruise there later, if there wasn’t already one. “Yes, father. Bye, Monty, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Little Eden. Don’t forget to write.”

Before she could respond, her father drug her away harshly. She bit her lips to hide the whimpers. “He’s in your…_House_ yes?”

She looked down—for some reason beyond her understanding—ashamed. “Yes.”

His nails dug into her shoulder and she couldn’t hold back the whimper that leaked out of her lips—her father was _much_ stronger than her mother, she started to realize. They arrived at the carts, and he turned her around harshly—she yelped loudly (would she get punished for that—what were the new rules?)—and opened his mouth to speak when someone beat him to it.

“Potter,” A familiar voice sneered. Eden had to fight to keep the tears of happiness from falling as she met gray eyes filled with unfathomable anger as they flickered between the hands on her person, her face, and her father.

“Malfoy,” her father spit out. He pushed her away, and it was only due to the goblin next to her when he caught her that she didn’t fall onto the tracks—she nodded her head in thanks and whispered the same exchange that happened the last time she was at the bank.

Her father opened his mouth to say something nasty—to her or Lucius she wasn’t entirely sure—but paused when she tugged on his arm—much to the goblin’s quiet consternation. “_What_, Noah?” he snarled. She immediately pulled away from him and curled in on herself; she lifted her arms to cover her face and cried out involuntarily.

No one was aware of the multiple pairs of eyes that watched from the shadows that belonged to classmates and Lords alike.

She took a deep breath and straightened slightly—she just wanted to go home where she could _hide_ (safety please safe sorry stop _safe_). “D-Don’t we ha-have b-business to t-take care of?” His hand clenched at his side before he took a deep breath and ruffled her hair—she had tried to pull away, but he caught her too soon.

“You’re right. Of course. I nearly forgot.”

Eden turned to Lucius—safe help safe—and smiled softly at his worried eyes and shook her head discretely. He wouldn’t be able to help her without drawing the Potter Estate’s wrath—another Very Bad thing.

“It appears that the carts are all full,” one of the two present goblins stated—the one who caught her. The other looked confused for a moment before it agreed after he received a rather tense look and bark in gobbledygook.

“I don’t mind sharing a cart if you don’t, Potter,” Lucius sneered—she saw the worry in his Mask.

“I don’t mind either,” Eden interjected quickly. When the hand in her hair pulled, her face morphed into pain, and she quickly spoke, her voice higher than usual as she tilted her head back to try and ease the pain. “Papa, mother doesn’t know we’ve left,” she gasped desperately—let go please sorry stop sorry _help_.

Her words and the use of the name had the desired effect and soon the three were on their way down to the Vaults. She was curled on her father’s lap and held onto him with one arm, while she held Lucius’ hand behind his tense back. The rapid twists and turns ate at her soul, and she thought she was going to die any minute. They eventually—after ten eternities—came to a stop, and she was set harshly on the bench while her father got out.

“How is your summer so far, Eden?” Lucius asked the moment her father disappeared into the Vault. His Mask broke, and he looked as if he wanted to pull her into his own arms, but refrained from doing so.

She gave a tired smile and blinked away the tears that begged to fall—and swiped at the ones that managed. She knew that he knew she was abused. He _just_ saw a small, relatively painless version of what happens when she’s at the Manor. “Painful,” was all she answered. “We’re here because he’s getting me some money so I can go shopping with Narcissa soon.”

Lucius smiled fondly at her, and his hand twitched as if he wanted to stroke her hair or face. “Yes, she is quite looking forward to the day you two are able to do that. Does the wild monkey you call _father_ know that it’s Narcissa you’ll be with?”

She looked at him with a comical aghast expression on her face as she desperately tried to not laugh. “I’m insulted that you think I’m a rash and stupid _Gryffindor_, Uncle Lucy. I’m a Slytherin, and very proud of it.” The man laughed and gazed at her with fond eyes.

“I apologize, my lady,” he said in an overly pompous tone with a fake bow. Eden giggled, and her nose wrinkled slightly as she did so—it was something new that started to happen. “She’s been very worried about you. All of us have been.”

“I know. I received her letter this morning.”

Their conversation was quickly cut short when her father returned and dropped a purple velvet bag into her lap. “150,000 galleons.”

“Are you sure?”

She was confused. He just _abused _her, in _public_ and he was _giving_ her that much money?

He ruffled her hair, and she flinched as he did so. “Of course, I wouldn’t have pulled that much out if I wasn’t sure.”

“What about mother?”

“Let me deal with her.” She was quickly pulled back onto his lap, and her confusion was swallowed by nausea, this time worse than the last.

The cart stopped and she stayed nestled against her father for a while before Lucius came back out, a velvet pouch and a leather bound book in his hands. He sat down in the cart, and again they were off.

She was dead convinced that burning in the Eternal Fires of Hell would be more comfortable than _ever_ going down to the Vaults again—there was a new number one.

Soon—although it took far longer than she wanted—she was back on solid ground and propped against her father. “Papa,” she started as the three walked towards the entrance.

“Yes, Noah.”

“When can I go shopping?” Lucius hid a smirk behind his Mask—apparently he knew all of her secrets now (granted his son _was_ teaching her…).

“You’d have to check with your friend, but, any day would be fine.”

Eden looked to Lucius. “Tomorrow?” When he nodded she finished speaking. “They said tomorrow would be best for them.”

Her father sighed and lifted her into his arms as they reached the apparation point. “Tomorrow will be fine, I guess.”

Eden smiled softly, and before they left, waved at Lucius who smiled and nodded.

_Potter Manor, Attic_

That night, Eden stared at the two velvet pouches on her bed while she fingered her holly wand, and the little note that came in one. She put the little note on the pouch on the left and went into her library and retrieved a book off of one of the shelves. She went back to the attic and got comfortable on the chaise longue, and searched for the spell she had read about months prior.

With a flick of her wand and a clearly stated spell—Granger would be _so_ proud—the pouch with the note turned a dark green with a bright silver snake on the front of it.

She placed the two pouches in the compartment that she had deemed her Money Room and laid down, a smile on her face and words whispered on her lips in the pale moonlight.

“Thank you, Lucius. I love you, too.”

_Flourish and Blott’s_

Eden grinned widely when she and Narcissa stepped into the bookstore. They had been shopping all day, and her right pocket was weighed down with bags full of clothing, shoes, and jewelry; some purchased by her, and some for her. Her left pocket held her Trunk—Narcissa had owled her late the night before demanding that she bring it—and furniture order slips. Narcissa had taken it upon herself to decorate Eden’s new bedroom after Draco had informed her that it was just a lumpy old bed that she had found in the attic one day.

Her skin itched from the poorly applied concealment charms—she had to apply them herself that day—but, other than that, she was the happiest she had been since school had let out nearly two weeks ago.

“So, my dear, what are the subjects you’ve been wanting to research” Narcissa asked as she led the way deeper into the store where books on beauty charms, spells, and potions were.

Eden had made a comment in passing about doing things with her hair—ever since it had been decimated by a poorly executed prank by a pair of redheaded twins in April (they had apologized profusely and had even given her a hair regrowth potion) she had no idea what to do with the now short length—and had unintentionally lit a fire in Narcissa to get her all of the beauty books, supplies, and needs that she could ever want _or_ need.

She stepped closer to the woman and spoke softly. “Blood Magic, Runes, invisibility, and…Dark Magic.”

Eden was instantly jealous of the woman’s Mask as she spoke. “Ah, well,” Narcissa hid her surprise well as she piled nearly all of the books on hair charms offered into the magically altered bag she carried. She moved on to makeup next, and cleared out an entire shelf.

Mordred.

What had she gotten herself into?

“We can get you books on Runes and invisibility here, but, we’ll need to go elsewhere for the other two subjects, is that alright?” she asked as she looked up from a book on skincare charms.

A breathtakingly happy grin spread across the child’s face. “Yes!”

The book was placed back on the shelf after a faint grimace broke through the woman’s Mask.

Two hours later, 235 books, 17 galleons later—and that was just what Eden bought (Narcissa purchased 596 books and spent just under 30 galleons—and they were all for Eden)—Narcissa led Eden by the hand down into Knockturn Alley.

Both were unaware of the hard emerald eyes that watched them.

_Kodiack Tomes_

They entered the dark and dusty bookstore, the door creaking loudly behind them as it shut softly. Eden tightened her grip on Narcissa’s hand, and took comfort when her arm settled around her shoulders in front of her neck in an awkward hug for a moment.

“Ah, Lady Malfoy, how may I be a service today?” A fairly attractive middle aged man asked as he stepped out of the backroom. He had long dark hair and firm, dark skin.

“Hello, Kodiack, we were wondering if you have any…_useful_ material on Blood Magic and Dark Magic.”

The man’s—Kodiack’s—thin lips stretched into a wide grin that, along with the glimmer in his dark eyes, made Eden feel slightly slimy. “I have _plenty_ of those here. Were there any specific area’s you wanted to look into?”

Narcissa looked to the girl that now stood half behind her. “Blood Magic’s interaction with Runes—invisibility Runes in particular; and I don’t particularly mind what Dark Magic subjects—perhaps something for beginners?”

His shiny, dark beady eyes fell on her and she repressed the burning urge to hide completely behind Narcissa. “You are very young to be studying that type of magic,” he said softly, a strange light entered his eyes that vaguely reminded her of Tom.

Eden shrugged delicately. “No magic is inherently evil. It’s the intent behind the spell that makes it good or evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it—” She was unaware of the intense looks both adults train on her at those words. “—besides, I think it unwise to not study as much as I can—no matter the subjects legality. It also helps that it’s information that I need.”

Kodiack’s shocked cackle seemed to shake the foundation of the building. “You have found yourself a lovely little thing, haven’t you, Narcissa.”

The woman pulled Eden out from behind her and rubbed a thumb lovingly over one of Eden’s cheeks. “Yes, I have. I absolutely adore her. She is like a daughter to me. Now, the books?”

Eden’s heart pounded with hesitant and joyous warmth at the words the woman spoke, and the next hour and a half was spent looking at books around the store. Complicated theories were explained to her as best as the two adults could. At one point, a man came in and joined in on the fun, and another hour was spent with him suggesting books, and explaining more complex theories that Kodiack and Narcissa didn’t understand.

After 127 books were purchased, another hour was spent placing wards and spells on the books, curtesy of the stranger—only she and those she allowed could see their true names and open them (and anyone who tried to touch them would be confounded into thinking they were holding a snake or spider—or whatever they feared the most).

Over 3,000 galleons were spent at the store, and not all of the books were on the two subjects requested, but all were books that either she thought would be useful at a future date, or were entirely to interesting to not get. After the books were sent into the library to be sorted later (along with the other 831 books), she and Narcissa left the store, with wave’s goodbye and promises to return.

As the squeaky door shut softly behind them, Eden’s eyes were pulled to the front window of the store across the street. She tugged Narcissa over to it, and stared at the beautiful ivory bag with pearls, diamonds, and sea glass spelled to the front. “It’s so pretty!” she cooed softly as she touched the window.

“Would you like to see it up closer?”

Eden nodded her head and her eyes never left the bag.

_Borgin and Burke’s_

“What can I do for you two ladies?” an older man with long, stringy hair that dripped with grease demanded kindly as they stepped into the store.

Eden hid slightly behind Narcissa again as a pungent odor seeped into her nose from the direction of the back of the store. “The bag in the window, the ivory one, we want to have a closer look at it.” Narcissa demanded in a haughty tone—Eden wasn’t entirely sure why, but, as she scanned the man again, she thought she began to understand.

“Ah, the Ivory and Pearl Handbag. It’s not as Dark as we usually sell, but, it’s still illegal, and always seems to somehow make its way back here,” he explained as he carefully spelled it to float in front of their eyes.

“What does it do?” Eden demanded. “Why is it illegal?”

“Once the bag is being worn, only the person wearing it can see it, and take it off. Nothing will fall out of it, and an undetectable extension charm has been added, although not much can fit in it.” It almost seemed like he left something out.

Eden’s brows furrowed as she moved from her hiding place. “That seems to be quite useful. People are dense if they think that’s evil and made it illegal.” She frowned and reached out a hand, and was about to touch it—almost against her will (was it calling to her?)—before she pulled it back. “Where did you find it?”

“One of our shop boys, in the mid-forties found it for us, actually. His name was Tom Riddle—” She froze—could it be her Tom? “—the boy was _genius_ at finding rare artifacts and even more amazing at getting a good price for them. He almost seemed to obsessively search for this, and seemed quite pleased with himself when he found it. I had only seen him that pleased once he located the Locket of Slytherin…he was never able to procure it, sadly, but—oh well.”

“How much is it?”

The man looked between her and Narcissa. “I believe she asked you a question, Borgin,” Narcissa hissed with a vile sneer.

He sighed. “For you…500 galleons.”

She pulled out the purple velvet pouch her father gave to her the day before. “I’ll take it.”

“Eden, dear, let me buy it for you,” Narcissa begged gently as she placed her hands on her shoulders.

She shook her head. “No, you bought all of the books a Kodiack’s, it’s my turn to buy something. Please?”

Narcissa sighed before she waved her wand and the asked for amount of money spilled out of the bag and landed on the counter in neat stacks. The handbag floated down into Eden’s outstretched hands, and felt as if something familiar settled deep inside her. She slung the bag over her left shoulder and adjusted it so it rested against her right hip. She grinned at Narcissa, who smiled and stroked her cheek.

“Thank you, Mr. Borgin,” Eden said with a kind smile.

“O-Of course, dear. Come again soon.”

The two women walked out of the store and started towards the apparation point at the back of Knockturn Alley, and often got distracted. After 5,000 more galleons were spent with bags going to both of their pockets, they made it to their original destination after Kodiack’s.

Narcissa held her close and apparated the two of them to Malfoy Manor, where an anti-nausea potion was waiting for her, along with warm hugs from Lucius and Draco.

The four had a lovely dinner with Snakey-Snape, and after dinner, sat in the drawing room and chatted for a while about anything and everything before Eden caught sight of the clock and paled. “I should probably head home now,” she stated softly.

Her four companions frowned before they nodded.

Narcissa summoned her new green crushed velvet cloak that she had purchased for her as an early birthday present earlier that day. “Do you have all of your things? Your Trunk?”

Eden nodded and patted the pearl bag on her hip. “Yes. I had a wonderful time today, Narcissa, thank you so much.”

The woman placed a kiss on the young girl’s head and escorted her to the floo, along with her family. “Don’t forget to write, okay?” Draco reminded as he hugged her softly, careful of the bruises decorating her back—he hadn’t seen them, but he had watched her enough during school that he knew she was hurt somewhere around there.

“I’ll do my best to write as often as possible. I don’t have an owl of my own, so…” the rest of the words went unsaid, but they were well understood—even by the potion’s professor (word traveled fast in the pureblood circles—especially when it involved one of their own).

Narcissa wrapped her in her arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, along with Lucius, and Snakey-Snape spared a deep nod towards her which she returned with a big hug.

She stood in the large fireplace, the floo powder clutched tightly in her hand. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Narcissa smiled encouragingly at her, the expression marred by the sadness and worry in her eyes. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll get you out of there soon.”

Eden gave a sad smile in return and dropped down the powder. “Potter Manor.”

Oh how she wished she hadn’t. 

* * *

_July 19—July 25, 1992_

_ Potter Manor, Attic_

It had been two long weeks since Eden had been let out of the attic.

When she had gotten home from the shopping trip with Narcissa, her mother had been waiting, along with her father. Together they had given her the worst beating she had ever received—if it wasn’t for her magic, she’d be dead.

After the beating she had been immediately thrown into the attic when she denied having actually bought anything for herself, and was brought food every other day, and a small glass of water every morning.

It had quickly become clear, that she wouldn’t be leaving the attic anytime soon.

A week after the beating, her injuries had finally healed—thanks to magic—to the point that she could move without tearing the welts in her back or stomach. She had left the window open since Narcissa had written to her, and throughout that week, all of the furniture for her new room had been delivered and piled on the end of her bed.

She spent the following days after being able to move doing many things. She reorganized her library; moved the shrunken down pieces of furniture into her room (she left them that way because she had _no_ idea how to decorate); sorted through the attic; and wrote in her diary.

On her 16th Day of Banishment, Eden had been deep in her library researching when an odd, faint tapping sound reached her ears. She put the books and her parchments off to the side of where she was laying on the floor, and quickly ran up the steps and turned towards the window. She grinned when her eyes fell upon a familiar gray owl that hooted at her from its perch on the window sill.

After she stepped out of the Trunk, the owl soared around the large room for a moment before it landed on the armrest of the chaise longue. She took the offered letter and smiled softly as she stroked the bird.

_Dearest Eden,_

_ We are worried about you. How are you? What can we do to help you?_

_ Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco_

Eden led the owl down into her office/study and sat at her desk with the things necessary to reply and quickly wrote out a response.

_Dear Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco_

_ I will be honest and say that I have not been doing well since we’ve last spoken. Despite my pride, what little of it I have left, I am forced to admit that a healer would be much appreciated, and, if not a healer, potions. I don’t know how you’d be able to get those to me though…. I haven’t seen anyone since I last saw you three._

_ My mother saw us go to Knockturn Alley. It was only thanks to the bag that I bought at Borgin and Burke’s that I was able to keep the things that we purchased that day. I lied and told her that you said there was a fireplace that would help with the nausea that I feel when flooing._

_ I don’t know if she believed me, but, she seemed to believe that I didn’t buy anything while we were down there. I’ve been locked in the attic since. _

_ I miss you three._

_ With all my love,_

_ Eden_

She sat at her desk for a while after she dried the letter, and pondered if she should even sent it. As she sat there, tears fell out of her eyes and smeared one of the letters once she realized that she was finally being forced to ask for help—even she knew her magic couldn’t heal everything, and the pain got worse every day.

Her mother hadn’t been on her side—and thus no help—in nearly seven years. Her father was no longer on her side—and how that _stung burned **ached**_—and even if Leif _was_—she had her doubts on whose side he was on since she was Sorted—there was nothing that he could do without their wrath being brought down onto him. He might not love her, but she still loved him, and wanted him to be healthy and happy.

A gentle cooing from her side had her petting the owl before it snatched up the letter and flew out of the Trunk. She chased after it and just barely saw it fade into the distance when she reached the window.

Damn bird.

She was going to send it.

Maybe.

Probably.

(thank you) 

* * *

_August 1—August 8, 1992_

_ Potter Manor, Attic_

The day after her 12th birthday found Eden in the back of the attic.

Stuck—again.

Inside a trunk—_again_.

But, unlike the year prior, she happened to fall into a very potentially useful trunk. The space she was in—five feet deep and 10 feet by 10 feet—was _full_ of books.

And not only that, all were on some form of illegal—Dark—magic.

Now, Eden very well knew that she could just stack the books and _climb_ out of the trunk, but, she found that if she were to do this, she would never be able to get the books out due to the stubborn sticking charm on the trunk—she had tried about five hours ago.

So, for the last several—four and a half—hours, Eden had been slowly levitating books out of the trunk and to safety—hopefully. There were so many other open trunks around that she could just be putting the books into those instead.

She had been levitating a large tome on Soul Magic that was the size of her torso, and thicker than her head, _over_ her head and out of the trunk when a fond hooting reached her ears. She startled, and lost control of the spell. The book fell onto her head, and she cried out as she fell and curled into a ball as she gripped her aching head.

A gentle pecking on her fingers had her look up before she jumped backwards into a pile of books—which then tumbled onto her, and caused her to swear violently (Tom really was a poor influence).

It was _laughing_ at her.

The bloody peacock was _laughing at her_.

“Stop laughing!” she whined. “It really hurts!” The purple-y white bird seemed to clear its throat before it nodded its head. “You can understand me?” Another nod. “Either I’m going crazy from lack of human contact, or you’re an animagus.”

The half-albino bird preened slightly before it stuck out its leg where a pouch was carefully clutched in the talons. She grabbed the pouch, and the second it was safely in her hands, the bird started to shift and grow taller. “Lucius!” she squeaked excitedly. She unburied herself—with help and ignoring the pain that blossomed as she did so—from the books and launched herself towards the man, and her arms wrapped around his waist.

He crouched down and gently wrapped her in his long arms. “Hello, Eden. How are you?” he asked as he pulled back and scanned her face.

Tears burned her eyes, but she pushed them back. “I really want to be able to say that I’m okay, but, I’m not really entirely sure.”

“Let’s get out and have your injuries looked over, alright?”

“What about the books?”

The blonde chuckled and ruffled her hair fondly. “We’ll get them out.” Within a few seconds, Eden and Lucius were out of the trunk and she was leading him over to the chaise longue that acted as her bed. “Open it,” he said as he gestured to the pouch in her hands.

Eden opened it and tipped out a familiar dark green Trunk that had been shrunk. She squinted her eyes, and looked to Lucius, and when he nodded his head, she put it on the ground. She pulled out her holly wand and tapped it to the top of the Trunk. He went to the now normal sized object and opened it, and out climbed two blondes, a brunette, and a raven haired man. “Narcissa! Draco! Professor Snape!” she squealed.

The three wrapped her in gentle hugs that had her quietly whimpering in pain before they were all ushered out of the way by the older woman. “Hello, Eden. My name is Healer Jacobs, I work for the Malfoy’s. They’ve asked me to check over you, is that alright with you?”

Eden swallowed thickly as she held onto Narcissa’s hand before she nodded her head. The woman quickly got to work, and after fifteen minutes, she pulled away fuming as she stared at the parchment that had appeared next to her at the start. “This is absolutely horrifying!” she exclaimed loudly. “Multiple improperly healed breaks, multiple lacerations that are very, _very_ close to being infected, one that _is_ infected; _years_ of malnutrition—_dehydration_. It’s a miracle that this girl is alive!”

She pulled a large bag out of the Trunk, and with Snakey-Snape’s help, pulled out potions, creams, and enough bandages to make a small army of mummies. “First things first, we need to get you some food. Where’s the kitchen?” she demanded as she stormed towards the door.

“No! Don’t!” Eden shouted and ran after her. She swatted at the hands that tried to hold her back. She was too late, and the woman touched the door knob and was thrown back ten feet into a large pile of pillows that she had placed years ago—she sometimes wondered if the blockage on the door had been removed while she was exploring or sleeping and would check.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. She held her hands over her mouth as the woman glared at her and Narcissa pulled her into a hug. Tears burned in her eyes as Snakey-Snape, Lucius, and Draco all placed their hands on her.

“How long has _this_—” she gestured angrily at the door “—been going on?”

Eden toed the ground. “About six years,” she mumbled softly. She was released and she continued to stare at the dark wood below her feet. “But, it’s fine. I’m used to it now. I can go a couple days without eating and feeling the effects of it now…. It’s water that I struggle to do without.”

A muffled sob sounded behind her and she turned to find Narcissa with her head buried in Lucius’ chest and Snakey-Snape hold back an irate Draco.

“Dobby!”

A timid house elf appeared in the attic and bowed to Lucius. “Yes, Master?”

“Bring us food and water. A lot of it.”

“Yes, Master.”

The elf left and Snakey-Snape started to shove potions down her throat while Healer Jacobs started to smear creams on her skin and remove the infection from her blood. The Malfoy’s were kind enough—despite her insisting—to either start getting the books out of the trunk, or decorating her bedroom in her Trunk—surprisingly, it was Draco who was doing the decorating.

A short while later, the elf returned. “Here, Master.” A large feast of food was soon spread out on a conjured table and large goblets of water were floating around it.

“Eden, whenever you find yourself getting hungry, call for Dobby, do you understand?” Lucius demanded with a certain glint in his eyes that _dared_ her to defy him. When she simply nodded her head while biting her lips, he turned to the elf. “Dobby, you are to obey Eden as if she were one of us, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” The elf looked at her and bowed low. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Eden.”

Eden nodded her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Dobby.” The elf teared up and Eden panicked. “Oh no! Please, no. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry!”

“You are dismissed, Dobby,” Lucius stated firmly. The crying elf bowed and nodded his head before he disappeared.

“What did I do?” she asked just before another potion was shoved down her throat. Snakey-Snape clamped his hand down around her mouth when she started to gag, and gently rubbed at her throat to force her to swallow it. “That was vile!” she groaned when he let her go and rubbed her shoulder gently.

“You showed him kindness,” Narcissa said after a moment, an odd tone to her voice.

Eden’s head tilted to the side while her left brow furrowed. “Is that not normal? I’m not allowed around our house elves, so, I don’t know…”

The family looked chagrined. “Not normally, no. But, I guess that’s going to change from now on,” she said. Her husband and child nodded at her silent command.

The six sat down to eat, and as they ate, Eden realized that she had made her own family. She didn’t need her blood family. She had her own quirky, strange, and loving family.

Huh.

The muggles had it right.

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. 

* * *

_Wednesday, September 2, 1992_

_ Slytherin Girls Second Year Dorm—2_

“I just don’t understand why you’re so fixated on him, Daphne,” Pansy stated from the dark oak wardrobe next to her bed, a dark green nightgown held in her hands.

“It’s just…. I honestly don’t know why either. He’s so…nice, I guess.”

“Nice is good,” Millicent said, “but so are looks.”

Eden giggled. “Imagine if you found a nice guy _with_ good looks,” she stated from her own wardrobe to the left of her bed. Her desk was on the right, also made of dark oak wood.

Her friends all paused in their nightly routines before they burst into giggles. “I don’t think that’s possible,” Pansy stated after a moment.

Eden laughed and thought of Tom, and the laugh quickly became fake. He had been a dream, she needed to remember that. She hadn’t seen him last night when she slept, and her heart sorrowed for the loss of one of her dearest friends—imaginary he may be, she still missed him.

She slipped the green silk nightgown with black trim lace that had ended a few inches above her knees over her head. Mariea had smuggled it to her for her birthday, and Eden had been wearing it every night since—except for the night prior. While the slightly too low cut neckline—compared to what she was used to—and thin straps had made her uncomfortable at first, she had grown used to it.

“No, I guess it’s not,” Eden agreed softly as she climbed into her bed. It was no longer uncomfortable, thanks to the bed Narcissa had gotten her when they went shopping and Lucius setting her chaise longue on fire.

Yeah…they didn’t like that.

“I guess they’re only real in our dreams,” she continued on. The four girls giggled and continued talking for a while longer before they all slowly drifted off to sleep.

Eden was the last to sleep, and her pillow was wet with tears.

* * *

_Wednesday, September 2, 1942_

_ Prefect Tom M. Riddle’s Dorm_

When her eyes immediately opened, she thought she was dreaming.

She was in a large square room with a single double bed with green silk hangings and snakes carved into the dark wood. She turned in a circle and a wide grin split her face as her eyes came to land on someone.

“Tom!” she squealed. The boy jumped high in his chair and turned around. His eyes widened for a moment before she threw herself at him. “I thought it was just a dream!” she sobbed. “When I didn’t see you last night, I was so scared—” Her words cut off as sobs started to roll through her body.

Tom ran his fingers through her mid-back length hair. “Shh, little one. You’re alright. It wasn’t a dream.” A kiss was pressed to the top of her forehead. “You’re here.” She cried for a little bit longer before she pulled away from him. He wiped her eyes before she could even think about doing so herself. “Well, now, let me look at you. My, it seems you’ve grown, my little one. You need to stop that.”

Eden grinned and poked his cheek. “So have you. How was your summer?”

“Boring, as usual. I was able to go to Diagon a few times though, so, not as boring as it could have been, but, still entirely uninteresting. How was yours?”

“Fantastically awful,” she said cheerfully. She continued on to explain her summer and the treatment of her family towards her. “So, after Dragon’s family started letting me use Dobby, I was able to sneak out and be with my friends. Sometimes I’d get caught, punished, and locked back up again, but, with Dobby, I didn’t go hungry again, and I even got healing potions in time.”

“I will come to your future, find out who your family is, and I promise I will kill them all,” he hissed as he nuzzled her hair.

“When you do, can I watch?”

Tom stared at her for a moment before a disbelieving laugh left his mouth. “You truly are one of a kind, aren’t you, my dear.”

Eden smiled at him and hugged him once more before she slipped off his lap and started to look around. “By the way, congratulations on becoming Prefect,” she idly mentioned as she trailed a finger across the spines of his books. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

Tom paused, his mouth open. “I’m not wearing my badge.”

She turned and grinned at him. “So? That doesn’t mean I don’t know that fact.”

He flicked his wrist and Eden flew across the room and landed with a loud thump on the large squishy bed. He hovered over her moments later, and had her hands pinned above her head in his own. “What else do you happen to know, little one?”

She smiled. “I know lots of things. For example, a crocodile can’t stick its tongue out.”

He opened his mouth to respond, and then apparently thought better of it. He shook his head with a fond smile at his lips. “I meant, what do you know about _me_?”

“Your name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, you’re a fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you can talk to snakes, you’re a Prefect—”

“I mean _future me_, Eden dear.”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because we’re best friends and you adore me?” he asked with a raised brow. His face was contoured into a hopeful look that usually got him what he wanted.

It hadn’t worked on her since February.

“Where would the fun be in that?”

He bore his straight teeth at her, and ran his fingers up and down her sides as he tickled her, to which she responded in kind.

“You are a pest,” he stated breathlessly after their impromptu tickle war.

Eden smiled and yawned deeply. Her eyes watered and he wiped away the unwilling tears before he moved to lay on his back with his arms wrapped around her. “Yes, but, I’m your pest.”

Tom pressed a kiss to her forehead as she curled up against his side with her head on his chest. “Hmm…. I’m not entirely sure that I _want_ you to be my pest,” he stated fondly.

“Oh come on, Tom,” she started through a yawn, “You don’t mean that.”

Her eyes closed and another kiss was pressed to her forehead. “You’re right. I don’t. You’re all mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it. Lemme know what you think


	8. 7 Something There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized that this was never included when Eden went shopping with the Malfoy's, and it's not really that important, but before Ollivander could tell Eden that her wand is the Brother Wand, Lucy stopped him. So, Eden has absolutely no clue that her wand is the brother wand.

_Saturday, September 2, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

Eden laughed manically when Tom flinched as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Congratulations!” she said gleefully into his ear.

He sighed somewhat fondly before he turned around in his chair to pull her into his lap and hold her tightly. “I missed you,” he whispered into her long hair. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she relaxed in his arms. “How long have you known?”

“Oh, I think since about a month after I started to come visit you,” she replied airily. Tom pouted against the soft skin of her neck. “Oh, no mister!” She turned in his lap so she was straddling him and wagged her finger in his face. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for protecting the future.”

Tom smirked and rested his hands on her hips. “I don’t think telling me that I’d become Head Boy would change the future that much.”

She raised her hands and held them palm out. “Hey, you never know.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared daringly into his eyes. “It could have gone to your head, you wouldn’t have gotten it, and then _somehow_ demonic ducks would be ruling the world.”

Tom was silent as he stared at his best friend with slightly narrowed eyes. His mouth was open and his tongue pressed against his right cheek, his teeth slightly gnawing it. “I want to ask questions,” he started hesitantly, “but, for some reason, and rightly so, I believe, I’m afraid of the answers I’ll get.”

She cackled and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Honesty, I’m afraid of the answers I’ll give.”

“I’ll have lunch brought up, and then we can talk about our summers.” Before she could respond, he had her sitting on his bed and a house elf summoned. Within minutes, a tray of more than enough food for two people rested on the coffee table.

“So, what did you do for your first summer away from the orphanage?” she demanded as he started eating.

He wiped his mouth as he swallowed. “I got a part time job working at Flourish and Blott’s and rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron. I researched a lot and spent time with Abraxas and his family as well.” He continued to explain the ‘awful’ balls he went to with the Malfoy’s of his time, and all of the ‘dreadfully boring women’ he had to ‘woo and charm’.

“You’re making it sound like you’d rather bed dead than have to talk to any of those women again,” Eden commented idly as she ran her fingers across his black leather diary.

She knew what the object was, due to having actually helped him create it. She always seemed to find herself touching it whenever they were together like this, him doing one thing, and her another while they chatted—especially after summer breaks.

It always brought her comfort and calmed her.

It also helped that whenever Tom wasn’t around, she taught the horcrux as many excruciatingly painful jokes as she could. She very much looked forward to the next time he updated the object.

She might be dead by the end of it, but still.

“Honestly, I think being banished to an eternal existence as a wraith would be much more preferable than having to charm another woman, ever again.”

Eden laughed and hugged the diary close to her chest, and the horcrux warmed as she did so. “Well then,” she sniffed. “I’ll just make sure that you’ll never have to charm me ‘ever again’.”

She desperately bit her lips to hide her grin as he scrambled. “That’s not—I mean—you’re different—you little witch,” he growled when she lost her composure and started to laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and glared at her.

“You know you absolutely adore me,” Tom.

“I’m not entirely sure that’s true.”

“If it wasn’t true, you’d have either found a way to stop me from visiting, or would have killed me by now.”

His scowl deepened. “You are entirely too smart for your own good.”

“It’s only because of you dear,” she teased with a wink.

His glower cracked and he smiled fondly at her. “You make my life far too interesting to ever risk losing you, love.”

Eden flushed a delicate pink, and he smirked victoriously.

It was an ongoing game between the two of them that had started in the middle of her second year: Who could make the other blush the most, also known as the Blushing Game.

So far, Tom was winning. By _a lot_. As in, she had _never_ successfully made him blush by comments made—the horcrux might help in that matter though. Actions, however…

Actions have been somewhat…successful. To a point. A very, _very_ fine point.

“Anyways, enough about my summer, how was yours, little one?”

Eden smiled softly. “It was actually kind of nice. I was able to spend most of it with Dragon and Pansy—” she still cursed the day she let her name slip “—it was almost as if my family didn’t care what I did anymore. They even let me live with the Dragon and his family after my birthday. Oh! Bunny has finally picked a side.”

“Oh, and what side as he decided to grace with his boundless loyalty?”

Eden raised an unimpressed brow. “Guess.”

“The graceless baboons you call parents?”

She laughed and nodded her head. “Good one. Anyway, Cissica and the Albino Peacock took me shopping _a lot_. I now have over 10,000 books in my library, which they had renovated into a two level masterpiece for my birthday, and because of this, I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” She could see how desperately he tried to remain nonchalant. She stood off of the bed and walked towards him with her hand out. She wandless and non-verbally transfigured her thumbnail into a knife point. “Impressive,” he complemented dryly. She knew him well enough to see the pride in his eyes.

“Shut up, prat, I’m not done,” she hissed. She pressed the small blade into the side of her pointer finger. The blood quickly welled up and dripped off of the appendage as she transfigured her nail back to normal. She wiped her finger on the ring on her thumb and twisted the metal to make sure that all of it got coated with her blood.

He stood and frantically started looking around when she suddenly disappeared. “Eden?” he demanded, his voice firm—mostly. He walked towards where she stood and she silently moved away from him. “Eden?” he demanded once more. She stood behind him and climbed onto the coffee table. She launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs tightly around his waist. “Dammit Eden! You scared me!”

“Language,” she whispered in his ear.

“Oh don’t you give me that shit, Eden. I thought something had happened,” he snarled as he gently pulled her around so she was hanging on his front instead of his back.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” she whispered as she rested her head in the crook of his neck. She felt the rapid pounding of his heart against her lips and fought to keep the guilt from devouring her.

He sat down on the arm chair he had previously sat in and held her close. Their torsos touched as he buried his head in her invisible hair and pulled her even closer. “I know I’m holding you, but, I need to see you,” he whispered after a few minutes. His heartrate still pounded, so she agreed.

She pulled away as much as he allowed her and wandlessly conjured a goblet of water. She dipped her thumb into it and watched as the crystal clear water turned pink as the ring was cleaned and she appeared before his eyes again. He pulled her back into his arms after he vanished the goblet and reburied his face in her hip-length dark hair.

“A warning would have been nice,” he said after his heart had calmed.

“I’m sorry.” She really was, too.

“So, you finally finished it over the summer?”

She snorted softly. “Obviously. I had help from the Albino Peacock and Snakey-Snape.”

“How did your potion’s professor help you?”

“He created a potion that made it so it would hold the blood and keep it wet as long as needed, and that would also make cleaning it and becoming visible again quite easy. I wish I had figured it out last year…. That would have been really good.” It had taken them both quite a while to get used to his NEWT level classes and the hectic schedule that came with them.

Tom laughed and agreed with her. “It truly would have made life much easier.”

They stayed snuggled for a while longer before she spoke again. “What time should I sleep at?”

“I don’t have my schedule yet, but, I assume midnight should still be fine. What days do you have Astronomy?”

“Fridays, so if I go to sleep later this year, it won’t really matter to my roommates.”

Tom nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He pulled away and frowned. “You grew again. I thought I told you to stop that.”

She laughed. “I recall telling you to do the same thing, yet, here we are, with you growing. _Again_.” He was wrong, she hadn’t grown since February.

“How tall are you now?” he pouted.

“5’1,” she answered proudly. She could now get out of trunks she fell into easily—it was probably something she _shouldn’t_ be proud of, but, it was.

“6’0.”

Eden whistled long and low, only for it to be interrupted with a yawn. “No!” she whined. “I want to stay longer,” she moaned as she held out the words.

Tom pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped her tightly in his arms. “I know, my dear. I know.” This was his least favorite part of the day.

She yawned again and faded from view.

He leaned back against the chair. His head rested on the backrest, his neck craned almost painfully at its new position. He waved his hand and his empty dishes were sent down to the kitchens. He rubbed his hand against his aching heart and wondered in passing why it hurt as he stood and moved to his desk to resume the plans he had been working on before his precious Eden came to visit him.

* * *

_Friday, September 8, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“We learned about the Unforgivable’s today,” Eden said after she opened her eyes. She grinned maliciously when Tom flinched and spilt water down his front.

“You’re late,” he responded icily. Eden turned and sat on the edge of his bed while he cleaned himself up.

“I am sorry about that…. Pansy insisted on doing my nails and she kept messing up on the charm. By the time she finished it was ten, and I had an essay that I needed to finish and another I needed to check over before I could sleep. Besides, I’m not as late as I could have been, all things considered.”

Tom sighed. “You’re right. I just…worry…about you, when you’re not here.”

Eden smiled and desperately tried to hide her blush behind her loose hair. “Technically speaking, I’m never here.”

Tom hissed at her. “**Quiet or I’ll bite you**.”

“**Is that a promise**?” she questioned with a playful wink.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “You know, I forget you’re a Parselmouth.”

Tom had found out during her second year with all of the Heir of Slytherin stuff going on. It stopped at the end of the year with a final message, and the only thing that people know is that Ginevra Weasley died down there. The Chamber was never opened again, and she never heard the hissing voice that begged to eat again.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered that you forget that about me.”

He pretended to think for a minute. “Let’s be safe and say both.”

“Alright then. I’m offendedly flattered.”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” he said offhandedly before he took a sip of water.

“I don’t think _you’re_ a word.”

Tom snickered. “Of course I’m not a word. I’m the greatest wizard to have ever lived.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his face smug for a moment before he faltered. “Right?”

A secretive smile crossed Eden’s lips. “I wouldn’t know, now would I? In my very humble and very unimportant opinion, yes, you are.”

He sneered at her and picked his goblet of water up once more. “So, you mentioned you learned about the Unforgivable’s today, is that so? What is your opinion on them?”

He waved his hand and the lunch tray disappeared. She fought to hide the glee she felt at seeing him do wandless and non-verbal magic at the same time, but, if she were to go by the smug gleam in his eyes, and the smirk at his lips, she failed.

Eden looked away and down at her fingers. “I feel that…” she trailed off slowly. She paused to roll the words around in her mouth before she finally allowed them to slip out of their confines and into the open air. “I feel that in the right situation, and used in the correct ways, that all three of the curses could be very useful.”

She looked up at the harsh sound of his chair as it scraped across the floor and barely had time to process that he rapidly moved towards her before his lips were on hers. She froze for moment, and before she could even begin to examine the situation and figure out how to best move forwards, he pulled away from her. His large hands cupped the back of her neck and his forehead pressed against her own. “Have I ever told you how perfect you are?” he demanded softly as he gazed into her eyes.

Eden froze, her eyes wide and her mind blank. “Uhm, what?”

He chuckled and pressed his lips against her own once more, and again pulled away before she could react. “You’re perfect, Eden. Absolutely perfect.”

* * *

_Friday, September 30, 1994_

_ Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom_

Eden collapsed against Draco as her stomach ached and tears streamed down her face.

He weakly wrapped his arms around her, as he was in a similar position as she was. All of the fourth year Slytherin’s were, in fact.

They had watched as Ronald Weasley proposed to Leif Potter, who had said yes, and now did a tango around the room while they sand the school song at the top of their lungs. The Gryffindor’s looked more than slightly uncomfortable, while most of the Slytherin’s were on the floor as they laughed themselves into an early grave.

“Potter! Since you find this so _amusing_, let’s have you give it a try!” Moody shouted as he lifted the curse on the two boys who immediately moved to opposite sides of the room. Eden slowly straightened from Draco’s side and smoothly made her way to the front of the classroom. The Slytherin’s had all fallen silent, and the Gryffindor’s looked on with a certain light in their eyes that made her more than slightly uncomfortable.

Looks like they’re going to be getting some new ‘material’ to abuse her with.

She stood in front of Moody with her hands clasped behind her back, and her feet slightly spread, back straight, and head held high. If she was going down, she was going to go down on her terms. “_Imperio_.”

The silent classroom erupted into murmurs as she continued to stand there, the picture of Slytherin Pride. She turned to Draco and furrowed her brows at him. He shrugged his shoulders in response to her unasked question. She turned back to Moody, Mask in place with her head tilted to the side and her eyes opened in wide innocence.

“Sir, isn’t—isn’t something supposed to happen now?” Her fellow classmates either smothered laughter into their robes or glared angrily at her. It depended on the color of their robes.

The man scowled at her and recast the spell, and once more, nothing happened. “Malfoy. Get over here. Now. Potter, stay,” he snapped. Draco stood next to her and the two squeezed each other’s hands as the wand point changed to him. “_Imperio_.”

Immediately, Draco had her in his arms and attempted to pull her around the classroom with him in the Viennese Waltz. After a few seconds she gave into the insistent tugs of her best friend—of this time—and the two danced around the room gracefully. “My, Draco,” she started, “I wasn’t aware that you knew _how_ to do the Viennese. The Imperius really _does_ do wonders. Perhaps I’ll pass the information on to Cissica and Lucy.”

Her comment was rewarded with two reactions; the first was the Slytherin’s positively died with laughter. The second was a scream from Moody and he tried to get Draco to try and kiss her. After about a minute of struggling with the cursed teen, she was finally able to get to her wand and had Draco unconscious in three seconds.

“I need to shower now,” she whined as she wiped at her slobbered face.

The room was silenced as Moody spoke. “Well, Miss Potter. It seems you are somehow…_immune_…to the Imperius Curse.”

* * *

_Saturday, September 30, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“You’re oddly quiet today. Is something wrong?” Tom asked from the couch he sat on.

She had been there for fifteen minutes, and had immediately moved to sit in one of the armchairs around the coffee table. She had asked him how his day was and that was that. She had obviously listened with half an ear, and made sounds when needed, but, other than that she was silent.

(_And we’re complaining_? Shut up, he told the part of his brain that seemed to always pop up at inopportune times.)

“Eden?”

Eden’s head snapped up and she looked at Tom. “What?”

“Come here.” He put his book on the table and spread his arms wide. Not one to start to make a habit of rejecting a ‘Tom Bear Hug’—that’s what she started to call them years ago—she got off of her chair and moved to sit next to him. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her into his lap and rested his head on top of hers as he tucked her face into his neck.

Ah.

A Super Tom Bear Hug.

She must be emoting worse than she thought.

“What’s wrong, little one?”

Yep. Too much emoting. Must stop.

She took a deep breath and breathed in his calming scent of spearmint, rain, and parchment, along with something slightly smoky. “Crazy Face cast the Imperius on the class today,” she started. His arms tightened around her until she cried out with pain.

He loosened his grip only slightly and pressed an apologetic kiss to her forehead. “What did the bastard make you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Eden,” he warned.

“I mean it. He made me do absolutely nothing. He couldn’t cast it on me. After he cast it on Dragon and spent five minutes trying to cast it on me, and making Dragon try and kiss me—he still won’t talk to me he’s so embarrassed about it—Crazy Face declared that I was immune to the Curse.”

Tom pulled away from her long enough to look her in the eyes. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Of course I am, Tom. Why would I lie about something like that? It’s just given the overgrown housecats more reasons to hurt me.”

He growled and nuzzled her neck. “How I wish I were there so I could put everyone in their place.”

Eden pulled away and stroked his cheek and placed a kiss on the opposite. “I know.” He pressed his forehead against her own and they stayed like that for a good ten minutes before he spoke again.

“Would you mind if I try?”

“Try what?”

“To cast the Imperius on you. I won’t make you do anything awful.” She nodded her head and he had his wand pointed steadily at her face. “_Imperio_,” he whispered.

She stayed on his lap, looked around and then shook her head.

“I’ve got nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. _Nulla_. Absolutely nothing.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “As do I.” The two were silent for a moment while he thought and she listened to his slightly faster than usual heartrate—was he okay? “I might have an idea as to why you’re able to resist the Imperius.”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever heard of Occlumency?”

Eden thought for a moment before she shook her head. “No. What is it?”

“It’s a form of Mind Magic—” he rubbed the grimace out of her forehead “—that shields your mind from intruders. It’s like forming a wall around your mind.”

“Okay, so…that would protect me from the Imperius?”

“Not necessarily. If you used it, and were a Master of Occlumency, it could aid you in resisting it…. Do you mind if I try and see into your mind?” When her eyes widened, he was quick to placate her. “I’ll just be in and out, I won’t go snooping or anything.”

She thought for a moment. “I trust you, Tom. Don’t make me regret that…. What do I need to do?”

Tom swallowed the sudden lump in his throat before he spoke. “All you need to do is make eye contact, and then I’ll do the rest.”

Her molten emerald eyes met his own and he ignored the way his heart stuttered painfully in his chest.

He really needed to get that checked out.

_Legilimens_. His brow furrowed when he couldn’t even get into her mind. He cast the spell a few more times and each time was just as unsuccessful as the first.

He stopped trying to get into her mind when small, cool hands cupped the sides of his face. “Tom,” she whispered, “it’s okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re getting frustrated. It’s not something to worry about.”

“You don’t understand, Eden. I’m a master Legilimens, and I can’t even get _in_ to your mind. Normally there would be some type of resistance going up against a Master, or someone who knew what they were doing, but, with you, there’s nothing. It’s like there’s a shield around you preventing me from getting in. That’s _never_ happened before. Are you _sure_ you’ve never heard of Occlumency before?”

“I’m absolutely sure. The very _idea_ of Mind Magic makes my stomach curl and chest ache.”

“Why?”

“Because…well…I read in one of the books I found in the attic that Mind Magic can damage your mind beyond repair, and, I didn’t—_don’t_—want to risk doing that to myself or someone else, so, I just…I’ve stayed away from it. If something mentioned Mind Magic, I just skipped over it.”

He stroked her cheek, and his heart warmed and stuttered in his chest when she leaned into his touch, and her eyes closed with content. “If you have the right teacher, you can learn it and be find,” he reassured gently. He had been his own teacher, and due to this fact, he felt he could be a good teacher for her if she ever desired to learn Mind Magic.

She nodded her head and surged forwards so her head rested in the crook of his neck. His heart acted up again and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close to him as he could get her.

He wanted—no, _needed_—her closer.

“I think you might be a natural Occlumens, my little one,” he said after a while of thought.

“Is that even possible?”

“I’ve only read about it. It’s very rare, but, it is possible. You aren’t _born_ a natural Occlumens. A natural is created at a usually very young age when something traumatic happens to a witch or wizard. I assume that the attack on your family by that wizard forced your magic to protect yourself that way.”

“But, he attacked Bunny…. Shouldn’t he be the natural Occlumens?”

“Magic works in strange ways, dear. Besides, there were only three witnesses to what happened that night, and one of them is dead, and the other two were too young to remember. We will never truly know what happened that night.”

Eden yawned softly. “So…it’s just another reason as to why I’m a freak then,” she murmured softly as she cuddled into him.

His heart froze and he squeezed her tightly. “You are _not_ a freak, Eden. You are special,” he insisted.

She yawned once more and cuddled closer to him. “If you say so.”

“Eden, my dear, I will spend the rest of my existence proving to you just how special and beautiful you really are.”

She smiled against his neck before she faded away into nothing.

Tom groaned and placed his hand over his rapidly beating heart. He _really_ needed to talk to someone about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it.
> 
> Also, another thing that needs to be cleared up. The Chamber of Secrets. Ginny died, but, she didn't have a strong enough magical Core to bring Tom back. It's never explained beyond this...i don't think (i haven't written that far yet). It might be important, but, I felt it was important to get that cleared up now.


	9. 8 The Triwizard Tournament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegrotus is pronounced (EE-grow-tis)

_Wednesday, October 5, 1994_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

“Who do you think would be a good Champion for the Triwizard Tournament?” Millicent questioned from her desk as she paused in writing her Divination essay.

“From Slytherin, or anywhere?” Daphne asked as she paused in her spell practice.

“Anywhere.”

Eden paused in her Ancient Runes essay and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “From Slytherin I’d have to say Urquhart, Selwyn, or Locks,” she said after a moment of thought.

“Gordonson, from Ravenclaw, would be good too,” Pansy added, a slightly dreamy tone in her voice.

Eden scoffed. “He’s a total waste of space and you know it,” she countered the suggestion. He’s blown up cauldrons just by _looking_ at them. “You’re only saying he would be good because he’s attractive.”

Pansy giggled. “You know me so well, dear Eden.”

“Jones would be pretty good as well,” Daphne said softly.

“The Head Boy? Is he Gryffindor? I can’t remember…”

“Yes to both.”

“Honestly,” Eden started, “any of the Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s would make great Champions.”

“Anyone would be good.”

“Except for Gordonson.”

The room erupted into giggles. “Except for Gordonson,” Pansy agreed, the dreamy tone still in her voice.

* * *

_Thursday, October 5, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“Have you heard of the Triwizard Tournament?” Eden asked when she looked up from _Magick Moste Evile._

Tom thought for a moment. “I think I have. Isn’t that where Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts have a contest of sorts to see who’s best?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because Hogwarts is hosting it this year.”

Tom smirked. “I’m surprised you’re telling me this.”

“Oh, please. It’s not like the Triwizard Tournament being held in my time is going to affect anything here.”

“I could find out when you’re from.”

“Yes, when it’s happening, not now.”

Tom opened his mouth to respond and then paused. “Dammit.”

“Language, dear Tom,” she taunted. He bore his teeth at her and sent a shocking hex at her. “Merlin dammit, Tom! How did you do that?” she demanded as she rubbed the red spot on her shoulder.

“It’s one of my own creation. Not taught in school, thus not protected by your bracelet,” he explained as he gestured to the cuff.

She glared at him. “Impressive. I hate it, but, it’s impressive. Unfortunately.”

He smiled and winked at her. “So, back to the Tournament, are you planning on participating?”

“Circe, no. Even if I were old enough, I wouldn’t participate.”

“What do you mean, ‘old enough’?”

“There’s an age restriction placed on it. You need to be of age in order to even put your name in the Goblet of Fire. If the age parameter didn’t exist, I wouldn’t participate because I’m only 14. I don’t know enough spells or have enough skills to survive such a dangerous Tournament.”

He nodded his head as he approved of her thinking. “If you did participate, you know I wouldn’t let you go in unprepared, right?”

Eden grinned and nodded her head. “Yes, I know.” She got off of her armchair and moved to the couch where he was currently reading his school books and laid down her head in his lap and continued to read.

A while later she spoke again. “You know, this book truly is full of _evil_ magic. I keep trying to think of ways that the subjects in this book couldn’t be construed as evil, and the only thing that I can think of is the Horcruxes, and even then those are pretty disgusting.” She shivered at the memory of the creation of the diary.

So much _blood_.

She could only be grateful that she wasn’t there for the creation of the ring.

Tom chuckled and ran his fingers through her smooth hair. “You’re right, my dear. I can get you another book if you’d prefer.”

She shook her head with a pout as she met his eyes. “No. I started it, therefore I must finish it.” She adverted her gaze back to the worn pages.

A soft chuckle reached her ears and the two continued to read in a comfortable silence.

* * *

_Monday, October 15, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“I have a question for you.”

Eden flinched at Tom’s sudden voice in the silence. She looked up from the Defense essay that she was fixing—she was adding in Tom’s inputs and suggestions—and stared at him for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Well, you’re in luck, I just happen to be in the mood to answer your question.”

He bore his teeth at her. “Pest.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Don’t be like that, dear.”

“I _will_ hex you.”

“You couldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, go for it.”

…

“Gryffindor.”

“Coward. Ouch! Son of banshee! Tom!”

“You were saying?”

“You were asking?” she sneered.

“If you could be stuck at any age, what age would it be?”

“I’m not entirely sure I’m in the mood to answer your question now.”

She squealed as he lunged at her. The chair she was in tipped over and spilled the two of them onto the floor in a painful heap. His hand was the only thing that kept her head from being cracked open on the hard, marble floor. “Answer the question, **_pest_**,” he hissed.

“**What will **happen** if I **don’t?” She still had issues switching between the two languages. She was getting better though.

“I swear to Merlin, Morgana, Circe, and Mordred, Eden, that if you don’t answer the question, so help me—” he cut off, the threat clear in his voice.

Eden sighed dramatically and desperately suppressed giggles when he bore his teeth at her once more. “I guess if I had to choose an age to be stuck at for the rest of my life, it would be 21.”

Tom leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.”

“Why do you ask? Does it have something to do with the aging potions you’re taking?”

He had stopped aging after he made his first Horcrux, and they spent a good two months trying to find something to keep him aging, just long enough for him to avoid suspicion. She was only less than slightly ashamed to say that the potions he took were invented in the late 70’s and aged him 24 hours with each dose.

He smiled charmingly down at her and softly stroked her cheek, and her eyes fluttered slightly at the gentle touch as she had to remind herself that it was Tom. She still wasn’t used to gentle touches, and it was always worse for the first couple months after school started back up.

“Soon you’ll know, my dear.”

* * *

_Friday, October 27, 1944_

_ Great Hall_

Eden leaned against the stone wall of the great hall and cut her finger.

She smeared the blood on her ring and disappeared from view (much to the confusion of a first year Ravenclaw who had been staring at the wall next to her while he daydreamed). She made her way over to Tom and skillfully dodged frantic students and made sure she didn’t fall.

It had happened before and it would happen again.

It was the curse of not being able to see her feet.

Once she reached her target, she tugged slightly on his hair before she wrapped her arms around his neck like she usually did when they were in the great hall. “You’re late,” he hissed softly as he slightly leaned into her embrace.

“Sorry,” she whispered into his ear and noted with no small amount of confusion the way he shivered slightly. “My roommates wouldn’t stop talking about how we’ll be receiving our guests on the thirtieth.”

“You should just ignore them,” he grumbled, as he always did whenever they caused her to be late.

Eden placed a soft kiss on his cheek before she pulled away and ran her fingers through his soft hair. She did so carefully so no one would notice it. He leaned once more into her touch and seemed to relax slightly as she did so. She giggled softly and massaged his neck with her thumbs as she ran her fingers through his hair.

She was content.

* * *

_Sunday, October 30, 1994_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

Pansy awoke to the horrid sounds of violent retching in the bathroom.

She quickly threw the covers off of her legs and jumped out of bed. She stopped in the doorway of the bathroom when she saw Eden bent over the porcelain bowl as she vomited something dark in color up. “Daphne! Millicent!” she shrieked. “Get up!” She ran into the bathroom and wrapped her arms around Eden once she finished and pitched forward. She pulled her friend back so she was propped against her chest.

“What’s wrong?” the two girls demanded as they entered, blurry-eyed and half awake. They looked into the toilet and quickly understood.

“Hospital wing,” Daphne insisted after a moment, her skin green with worry.

The three worked together, and they slowly made their way up to the hospital wing on the seventh floor. Eden was practically unconscious in their arms, her face contorted into a look of pain.

_Hospital Wing_

“What’s going on?” Madam P demanded the moment the four girls entered with three of them screaming bloody murder. The woman paused and took in the scene in front of her and quickly pulled Eden away from her friends.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her aching stomach and curled into a ball after she was aided onto a bed.

“She was vomiting blood,” Pansy hesitantly answered.

The medi-witch frowned before she began to run her wand up and down Eden’s convulsing body. She paled at whatever results she was given before she flicked her wand and parchment and a self-inking quill came out. She quickly wrote something down before she waved her wand again and the note flew out of the crack of the closed double doors. She turned to the girls with a fierce expression on her face. “Do you know how long she’s been like this?”

They shook their heads. “No. She was fine before bed, and then she was vomiting. Madam, what’s wrong with her?”

“Is she going to be alright?” Millie demanded as she sat down on the edge of the bed and began to rub her back. While the churning in her stomach didn’t lessen, it brought some sort of comfort to have proof that someone was there with her. Pansy and Daphne quickly joined Millie on the bed and either ran their fingers through her hair or rubbed her back.

“She’s been given a potion that makes the consumer very ill. It’s called _Aegrotus Venenum_. The potion has the potential to kill if the consumer, Miss Potter in this case, is not given the antidote in time.”

“So, she’ll live? You sent for the antidote, right?” Pansy begged. When the woman didn’t respond, Daphne repeated the question, and the girls continued to demand an answer, steadily growing more desperate the longer the witch remained silent.

“I am not entirely sure. She was given a very large dose, especially for her size. We can only hope that we get it to her in time,” she eventually answered.

Eden’s stomach churned painfully, and she groaned before she heaved and vomited more blood, this time on her friends. Their painful cries echoed around the wing as Madam P ushered them away and cleaned up the bloody vomit.

“You three need to go to the showers now. The potion is in her blood, and you three could very well absorb some of it. Go on, now. Hurry.”

Just as the bathroom door in the corner of the room opened, the large double doors slammed open and Snakey-Snape ran in with potion bottles clinking around his head. He spotted the three girls by the bathroom and paled. “Wash. Hurry.”

The three fourth years quickly entered the bathroom and quickly started to wash off the poison while Poppy and Severus quickly got to work on saving the dying girl.

* * *

_Monday, October 30, 1944_

_ Potions Classroom_

To say Tom was frantic would be an understatement.

He and Eden had been debating about the usefulness of using fear to lead people—“I don’t care what you say, Tom, fear is _never_ a good way to lead”—when suddenly Eden had paled, put her hand on her stomach, stated she was going to be sick, and then faded from view faster than he had ever seen her do before.

That was nearly two hours ago.

As he finely chopped the hellbore, he debated on the usefulness of pretending he was sick to ditch the rest of potions class. There was still over an hour left, and he could barely concentrate.

Eden had _never_ been sick like that before. In times past, when she had the flu, she’d be lethargic—she was lethargic earlier too, how had _he_ not _noticed_?—and would sniffle and cough, but it would never affect her to the point where she’d wake up as suddenly as she did.

A familiar tug on the back of his robes caused him to force the knife to slip and slice the tip of his finger. He hissed—that hurt more than it was supposed to—and when Abraxas—_bless his little peacock soul_—threw a fit, he was ordered to go to the hospital wing.

He, of course, put up a very weak argument—he had an image to protect after all—but, because he was ‘quite pale’, he needed to go to the hospital wing, get his finger healed, and then go rest for the rest of the day.

They were on the first floor, away from the classrooms when his hand was taken into a pair of small, cold, invisible hands and the cut healed. The only evidence of there once having been a cut previously on his finger was the blood on his hand.

He clutched her hand in his own and led her to the head dorms where he then proceeded to check over her with an efficiency and accuracy that would make Healer Jones proud. She was pale and gaunt, her bright eyes, dull. “What’s wrong?” he demanded as he sat down and pulled her into his lap.

“_Apparently_ I was drugged,” she murmured bitterly into his neck as she tucked her face into his skin. His heartrate pick up both at her actions and in fear.

“What do you mean ‘drugged’?”

“Poisoned.”

His grip tightened until she quietly whimpered, and he loosened it just enough so it wouldn’t hurt her. His vision tinged red as he spoke. “By what?” The tone he used was one he only ever used on his Knights, and she had only heard it a handful of times—whenever she appeared during a meeting (which wasn’t often, but always pissed him off whenever she did because it meant someone had hurt her).

Everyone knew that when that voice was used, they needed to run as far, and as fast as they could before he caught them.

And he _would_ catch them.

“_Aegrotus Venenum_,” she whispered.

His magic tore at the room as he lost control, his vision blurred with the thick color of blood as he held her close to him. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and the anger of lost and damned souls shrieked in his ears.

He was going to find a way to get to her time, and he was going to _maim_ and _torture_ every _single_ person who had ever even _thought_ about hurting her.

She was his.

You didn’t _touch_—_look_ at, _lust_ after, _speak_ to—what belonged to _him_.

“Tom! Tom!” Slowly her voice reached him through his rage and he looked at her, her pale skin covered in a haze of red. “Come back to me, Tom.”

He pressed his forehead against her own and loosened his steel tight grip on her. “_Please_ tell me you’re going to live,” he begged as his voice cracked.

“Madam P and Snakey-Snape think so. I was given a pretty large dose for my size. I’m banished to the hospital wing for the foreseeable future. I can’t even pee without Madam P following me like a hawk. I wouldn’t be surprised if she cast some sort of spy charms on the bathroom while I was in there.”

Tom chuckled and nuzzled her neck. “I assume you’re going to be in and out for a while then.”

“I guess so. They’re going to be giving me more potions throughout the day. I’m just glad it’s Sunday, so I’m not missing a whole lot of classes.”

“I’ll tutor you,” he offered.

She laughed and pushed closer to him, and his heart stuttered. “With all of the time I spent in your classes in my first year, I think I’m good, but, I will gladly take whatever wisdom you decide to impart upon me.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her soft skin—the more he did it, the more he needed it. “I’m going to see if _Medela Aer_ will work.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t, we don’t know how it will affect you.”

“I’m much stronger than I was last year,” he soothed as he thought about the last time he had to cast it. It was at the end of the school year, and she had had most of the bones in her body broken—apparently it was some type of sick going away gift from some seventh years—and after he healed her, he spent nearly two weeks recovering from the magical strain.

“I know. We still don’t know how it will affect you, though. We also don’t know if it will react with the poison in a negative way. You said it’s typically only used for injuries.”

Tom sighed at her logic. _Why_ did she have to be logical? _Why_ couldn’t she be that shy, but impulsive little kid he knew back in fourth year?

(_Because we trained it out of her_, a voice—_the_ voice—whispered in the back of his mind.)

Why did he have to be so impulsive to train such a horrendous trait out of her when it would have _obviously_ been useful at a future date?

He needed to think things through better.

The two stayed snuggled together in peaceful silence before Eden yawned. “If I’m asleep when you get back, wake me up,” he instructed as she yawned again.

“Okie doki, Tommywommy.”

She faded from view and he stared at the spot she had been before an incredulous laugh escaped him.

That needed to be put to an end.

Immediately.

By _any_ means necessary.

* * *

_Tuesday, October 31, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“What are you not understanding?” Tom exploded as they sat doing homework.

Well, they _had_ been doing homework. But, that was before they got sidetracked. “I’m not understanding why someone would even _want_ to fly, let alone without the use of a broom. It sounds like the 12th layer of Hell to me.”

He took a deep breath before he stood and offered her his hand. Eden stared at it in apprehension before she took it. He pulled her up and pinned her to his chest. “This, my dear Eden, is why.”

“No! Hey! Put me down!” Nausea filled her bones. “I’m gonna be sick all over you if you don’t stop!” she squealed as her feet lifted off of the floor and the two started to soar ten feet in the air. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and she shook like a leaf as the nausea slowly increased. One of his arms left her waist, and she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. The nausea took over completely and she moaned into his neck. “_Please_, put me down, Tom.”

“Or what?”

“**I’ll bite you**,” she hissed. _Or puke on you._ Whichever comes first, she wasn’t picky in this case.

“**Is that a promise, dearest**?” he returned. Eden hid her face in his chest as it flushed deeply and clashed with the green of her skin.

“Please, Tom. I’m feeling really sick. You know I don’t do well with magical travel,” she begged.

And then, something amazing happened.

The nausea faded away, and she was left feeling complete and whole. “What? How did you do that?”

“It’s a secret,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. “Open your eyes, dear.”

Eden hesitantly lifted her head and gasped as she did so. Tom had made it appear like they were on some kind of beach with rocky outcroppings, black sand, and an amazing view of a setting sun.

“How did you do this?” she asked as her shaky death grip on his neck loosened to the point where he could breathe easily once more.

“It’s an illusion. We’re about three feet above it, any lower and we’ll break it.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how amazing you are, Tom,” she stated in awe as she gazed at the scene around them. “This is the first time I’ve ever been able to fly without wanting to die of being sick.”

He chuckled as the hidden grandfather clock chimed seven. He waved his hand and slow classical waltz music started to play. “May I have this dance?” he asked softly as he stared into her eyes.

“You may,” she giggled with a faint blush.

The two got into position and started to dance as if their feet were on the ground. They chatted and laughed as if nothing was wrong in the world, and for that moment in time, nothing was.

Everything was perfect.

They danced to two more songs, and in the middle of the fourth song, Eden blinked from view as she laughed maniacally at a story Tom told her. There was no warning yawn, no fading away. It was as if she had apparated.

The illusion was broken.

For nothing could be perfect, without the two of them together.

* * *

_Monday, October 31, 1994_

_ Hospital Wing_

Eden’s eyes suddenly opened as she felt the sensation as if she were falling—falling, falling, falling from eternity—and in some strange form of self-preservation, she sat up. Her vision was blurry, and strange shapes hovered around her. Her head pounded, and she felt as if it were full of stuffing.

“Miss Potter, can you hear me?” She shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed. The heels of her hands dug into them until she saw silvery ripples in the blackness. She opened her eyes and blinked in rapid succession, and slowly, the form of Headmaster Dumbledore came into her vision.

“H-Headmaster?” she mumbled out. She looked around and saw more blurry shapes that no amount of blinking would clear up.

What happened?

Where was she?

What was going on?

Where’s Tom?

“Wha’s goin’ on?” she slurred as she dropped back to her pillow and once more pressed against her eyes.

“Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” he demanded stiffly.

“Wha’? No…. Not allowed.” She sounded as if she had drunk fire-whiskey. Her voice was gravelly, her words slurred, and her head ached enough that this is what she imagined a hangover felt like.

“Did you ask another student to put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

She shook her head and moaned as she curled into a ball. “I don’t feel good,” she whined softly. She started coughing, and did so until her stomach heaved, and pale red bile landed on the floor next to her bed.

“Albus, perhaps you should let her wake up a little before her start demanding questions of her. Oh dear,” Madam P sighed. She waved her wand and the bile disappeared. She handed her a goblet of ice water, and a small bottle with the antidote for _Aegrotus Venenum_. She took the vile potion under the watchful eye of the matron, and then practically poured the water down her throat.

The woman waved her wand and sighed with a furrowed brow. “It seems to be getting better, but, it’s going at a much slower pace than needed,” she muttered to herself. “Perhaps we should up the dose of the antidote…”

Nope. Not going to happen. She would _die_ before she took any more of that disgusting potion at once.

“Poppy, how long has Miss Potter been here?”

“Ever since the middle of the night yesterday. She ingested a poison that’s made her quite ill, and she’s not taking as well to the antidote as anticipated. She’s only been allowed out of bed to use the restroom, and even then she’s not alone.”

Hah! She _knew_ it!

“Has she had any visitors?”

“Only her friends in the same year as her. They brought her her homework and spent time doing it with her friends before she fell asleep. I assure you, there was no talk about the cup beyond speculating who the Champions could be.”

Eden curled into a ball and rubbed at her foggy head. “Miss Potter, can you look at me please?” She sat up and did as asked and was even more confused when he frowned a few minutes later. “Miss Potter, have you ever heard of Occlumency?”

Eden shook her head as she rubbed at it. She hadn’t felt this way since the first couple weeks she went back to the past, and even then it wasn’t this bad.

“No—” she started, and then stopped as she lifted her head from her hands, her left brow slightly furrowed. Something tickled at the back of her mind, before a recent—but very faint—memory came forward. “Wait—isn’t that…when you’re able to…hide—is that the word?—your…head from other people?” her voice was a sluggish as her mind. “My mind is so foggy,” she whispered as her head went back to her hands.

The medi-witch waved her wand a few times before she insisted that everything was okay.

Just what spell had they used to wake her up?

“Well, Miss Potter, this seems to be a problem.”

Eden scoffed and shook her head before she lifted it and met the dark eyes of the headmaster. She still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. “If you don’t believe me,” she started viciously, “I’ll take Veritaserum.”

Everyone who was in the room—she could finally make out the shapes and saw many people whom she had never seen before—broke out into shocked whispers. It was very rare for someone to offer to take the potion, especially someone of her age.

“I’ll have to contact your parents to make sure it’s alright with them, as you are still a minor.”

“Okay, you go do that.” She laid down and whispered to herself, “I don’t feel too good.”

She curled into another ball and quickly fell into a weird state of consciousness where she wasn’t asleep—unfortunately, Tom would be able to tell her what was going on (her head was too foggy for her to figure it out on her own)—and she wasn’t awake. She was brought back to reality when someone lightly touched her shoulder.

She flinched and sat up quickly. Her hands instinctively came up to cover her face as a light whimper escaped her throat. After a few moments, she lowered her hands and came face to face with Snakey-Snape—the one person in the room whom she actually trusted. She threw her arms around his neck and cried softly into his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on!” she whispered.

He patted the back of her head. “Your parents agreed to have you testify under the truth serum.”

Eden nodded and pulled away from the man who was one of four father figures to her. She held out her tongue and he put three drops onto it. She met Dumbledore’s eyes with her own foggy emeralds.

“What is your full name?”

“Noah Eden Potter.”

“Are you a fourth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a twin sister?”

“No.”

Eden was concerned.

The words just tumbled out of her mouth before she could even fully process what the question was. It was jarring, disconcerting, and terrifying. If he asked her about her home life, she would tell them _everything_, and then she’d be tortured and starved for the entirety of the summer, despite her having access to Dobby—who had grown comfortable enough around her to start voicing the many ways he wanted to ‘help’ her (AKA kill her family—he was really quite creative when you thought about it).

“We’ll begin with the real questions now—” she was _so_ grateful she had self-control because the comment she wanted to make surely would have given her detention “—did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“No.”

Would she get used to the words just ripping out of her mouth like that?

Probably not.

“Did you ask an older student put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“No.”

It was kind of nice, now that she thought about it, as Snakey-Snape squeezed her shoulder while the room around her exploded into murmurs. She could let the groggy feelings consume her whole and still have an honest to Merlin conversation.

She probably shouldn’t though…

Dumbles seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment before an idea seemed to come to him—at the same time things _finally _started to click for her as her head started to clear. “Did you want to participate in the Triwizard Tournament?”

“No.”

“Why ever not?” This came from a thin man with a mustache. He sounded as if the very idea of someone not wanting to participate was preposterous.

“I’m fourteen,” she started with a glance at the man through the corner of her eye. “Even if the age parameters allowed me to participate, I wouldn’t do so because I know I don’t know enough to survive such a dangerous competition. Why would I risk my life for a silly title? It’s unwise, and it’s stupid. There are many other ways to gain prestige, fame, wealth, and glory _without_ the risk of life.”

“Spoken like a true Slytherin,” Snakey-Snape praised.

“You may give her the reversal, Severus,” Dumbles sounded like he had the weight of the world pressed upon his shoulders. After she drank the goblet of cool water, he spoke again. “Due to the rules of the Tournament, I am sorry to say that even though you are not of age, you will still have to participate.”

“What?” Two shocked voices rang out in the sudden silence of the wing.

“I apologize, but, those were the rules set in place and bound by Magic. The second your name was drawn from the Goblet—”

“But I didn’t put my damn name in it!” she shouted, her Mask completely shattered as she ignored the glare leveled at her by the bespectacled man.

“The second your name was drawn from the Goblet,” he continued, “the Magic was bound to you, _despite_ you not placing your name in. I apologize my dear child, but you will have to participate. There is nothing I can do.”

Rage clouded Eden’s mind, and those in the room watched as her Mask was put back into place. Eden spoke, she didn’t think or care about the things she said, and was equally as unconcerned with the way her magic tore into the room and people around her. “Damn you. Damn you, Albus Dumbledore. You are a _coward_. A damn coward. You only do things when they fit into your plans, and I hate you. I wonder how people can follow a man as convoluted, and prejudiced as you. You _disgust_ me.”

She moved so she lay on her side and pulled the pillow onto her head to block out the voices of those in the room as they filed out. She reluctantly shrugged off the familiar and comforting hand of Snakey-Snape, ignored his sigh, and held her breath until her lungs started to burn.

She let it out with a harsh gasp that scorched her throat, before she cried herself to sleep, hours later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer and I are having an epic battle of wills that is quickly reducing me to a blubbering mess. It has also led to me having to use an external keyboard, and did you know that when you’ve typed 250,000+ words in a 4 month time period on one keyboard, it is difficult to suddenly switch to another keyboard? Seriously, I misspell things now that I haven’t misspelled since I was ten. Is so frustrating 
> 
> TT__TT
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I might update on Friday next week because I have plans next Saturday and Sunday that I'm not entirely too sure I'll actually have time to post when I usually do.


	10. 9 Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom goes more than slightly overboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to sara92 for making me realize some things. There are scenes in this chapter that weren’t there before, and I feel like it has made it better. They have also helped me figure out some things I had been trying to figure out for later chapters (like #23+) so, hope you enjoy it sara92 and that you like what I’ve done with it, and I hope the rest of you like it as well. Your comments really do help me, even if I’ve already written a section.
> 
> By the way, if you haven’t yet figured it out, I’m painfully American, and it actually starts to show in this chapter, as I have no idea how spaces are measured in Britain. Also, the metric system baffles my mind.
> 
> (Also, I warned you about trunks. Beware.)

_Wednesday, November 1, 1944_

_ Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom_

When Eden heard the voices, she immediately activated her ring.

Once that was done and with the familiar throbbing in her pointer finger—it was almost _comforting_ now—started on the most important task of this visit. She wiped at the invisible tears that streamed down her invisible face, and held in her desperate—unfortunately _not_ invisible—sobs as she searched the backs of the heads of the students in front of her.

She quickly found Tom, and carefully made her way to him. She passed by empty desks, and was grateful that the class was finishing up by watching two random students duel, and that one of them wasn’t Tom. She stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and buried her face into his back, and finally allowed the shuddering cries to leave her in barely discernable gasps.

He twitched his wand, and she felt the familiar magic of the small silencing ward that would surround only the two of them as it fell into place. She took gasping breaths and her soul shattering cries sounded around the two of them. He crossed his arms in front of his stomach to hide his hands as he slowly squeezed her arms in an attempt to calm her down.

She felt his worry as his back slowly tensed more and more, and she tried to rein in her sadness, only to fail and clutch tighter to him. She knew he wanted to demand that she tell him what was wrong then and there, but didn’t.

She couldn’t even if he did. She needed him to be able to comfort her while she relived the awful events she just went through by telling him what had happened.

“Class is dismissed, don’t forget your five foot essay on different types of shielding charms is due on Monday!” Professor Merrythought called out to the students as they practically ran from the room.

Eden bit back her sobs again, and Tom dropped the ward. He cast a strong notice-me-not charm on himself and quickly drug her away.

_Head Dorms_

“What the bloody hell happened? Why did you just disappear like that?” he demanded as soon as his door was closed.

Eden appeared in front of his eyes, and his anger paused for just a brief moment. She was still pale and gaunt from the poison, but her eyes were now swollen and bloodshot, and thick red lines from her soul-crippling tears covered her cheeks.

Eden’s face and heart crumbled at the horror in his eyes that matched her own acute horror. Fresh tears fell down her face, and he gathered her into his arms and slowly rocked them side to side. He didn’t push her to speak, evidently he knew that she needed to be able to do it on her own time.

“T-T-Triwizard T-Tournament!” she was finally able to gasp out.

“Did one of your friends get chosen?” he ask, confusion clear in his voice, even as he held her tighter.

“No. I did!”

What then proceeded to happen was a 45 minute angry tirade by the Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of 1944-45 while his best friend had the worst break down of her life.

Once everything in the room had been destroyed, and then fixed—repeat five times—Tom was finally past the point of infuriating rage, to a cold anger that could hold his friend without crushing her under its fury.

Eden curled into his embrace when he picked her up from the center of the rug in the room, where she had clutched the diary as if it were her only lifeline. The object was hot, as if it could sense her panic and needed to find out what was wrong.

He carried her to the couch where he settled her onto his lap in a Super Tom Bear Hug. “How the bloody hell did _your_ name get drawn?” he demanded, his voice a quiet murmur that carried the anger of wrongly damned souls from time past.

She had heard it only a few times before, and had seen it bring grown men to their knees, with their pants pissed, their faces white with fear, and wet with horror.

“I don’t know. Someone—they don’t know who—put my name in it, and they were able to somehow trick the Goblet into drawing my name.”

His magic flared once more, and again many objects were destroyed before they were fixed, and her ears bled with the vile colors of his vocabulary. “I’m going to kill whoever put your name into that damned cup.”

“Good luck with that,” she whispered, “we don’t know who did it,” she repeated.

The two were silent for a while before Tom broke it. “Right, well, first things first is to do research on past Tournaments and figure out what the First Task could be. Then, we’ll get started on training.”

Eden lifted her head from his neck and gazed at him with watery eyes before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Tom.”

“I promised you, didn’t I? I’m not letting you go into this unprepared. I need you, Eden. Now, I don’t care what you say, I’m healing you.”

She sighed and smiled fondly at Tom. “I’m surprised it took you this long before you insisted. Truly, I was honestly starting to think that _you_ were the one who was poisoned.”

He _really_ wished that he hadn’t trained the impulsiveness out of her, and instead trained the _sheer cheek_ out instead.

Granted, she probably picked it up from him…she was too shy as a kid to have had it naturally.

Whoops.

* * *

_Tuesday, November 1, 1994_

_ Headmasters Office_

Magic ate at the walls of the office as he clenched his fists.

“What do you mean it’s not possible?” he hissed.

“I’m saying it would be impossible for us to find out whoever did it. There are too many persons in this castle to be able to track them down.”

Severus took a deep breath. “If you were to get permission from the Ministry, or even the school board, I’m sure it would be more than possible to find just _who_ attempted to _kill_ Miss Potter.”

He had never wanted to kill someone more than in the moment that Albus Dumbledore sent him a placating smile. “I’m sure it wasn’t meant to be like that, Severus, my boy. I’m sure it was just a prank gone wrong.”

“Prank…gone…_wrong_?” he hissed slowly, his magic saturating the air thicken exponentially. “In large quantities, that is one of the most dangerous substances in the _world_, Albus,” he snarled. “In small, _carefully supervised_, doses it mimics the stomach flu, but in large doses, it _kills_, Albus. And there’s no set dose, because it’s based on the size of the consumer! _Aegrotus Venenum_ is _never_ used as some form of _prank_.”

The old man’s head tilted to the side as his blue eyes twinkled in a manner that was supposed to be reassuring. It was most certainly _not_ reassuring, and couldn’t be misconstrued as reassuring, unless you were in the deepest pits of _Hell_—and even then he doubted it would be taken that way.

“Do you teach about this…potion in your class?”

“It’s a _poison_, and no. I don’t. It is too dangerous and _tempting_ for the students to risk teaching about it.”

He had…once upon a time.

After a student had been sent to St. Mungo’s he wiped the students’ minds and never mentioned it within his classes ever again—he tried to remove all mentions of it from the library, but he was only one man, and there were _thousands_ of books in that room.

“Tempting? How so?”

If his head tilted anymore it was going to _fall off_.

(he couldn’t bring himself to particularly care at the moment)

“Like I said before, in very small, carefully measured doses, it mimics the stomach flu,” he bit out. Surely it was obvious as to why it was so tempting. When his head tilted even more—_Merlin, just fall off already!_—he explained. “Students take it to get out of class, Albus.”

His head nodded in understanding. “Ah well, I’m sure it was just meant to be harmless fun. Anyways, I believe you should just let it go and go about your day as usual, my boy.”

His jaw clenched along with his fists and when his nails pierced the skin, he wondered if his teeth would shatter. “What about the Tournament?”

“What about it?”

“Are you going to try and find out who put her name into it?”

He smiled at him, his eyes twinkling once more, and he thought that they would look much better dull and lifeless as his blood oozed down the walls around them while the old man’s intestines curled around his fingers. “No. It’s useless. What’s done is done.”

The Mark on his arm _throbbed_ as he withheld the urge to make his fantasies become reality. “If she dies, either from the Tournament, or the poison, it’s on _your_ head, Albus. And _everyone_ will know. I Promise you that.” Magic tightened in the air, and he was pleased to see at least some sort of _real_ emotion cross his eternally fake façade.

He swept out of the room and quickly made his way to his office, spitting out detentions left and right and docking house points as if they were bitter candy that he couldn't wait to get rid of. When the door to his office slammed shut with a deafening thud that seemed to shake the entirety of the castle, he sat down at his desk.

_Severus Snape’s Office_

He breathed for just a moment before he reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a black sphere the size of a large apple and set it on his desk. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and Unbound his furious and violent Dark magic. His magic flapped around the room wildly for a brief moment before it began to attack the innocent sphere on his desk.

The sphere eagerly ate up the magic before it could be detected by or damage any of the volatile potions in the room, or destroy the carefully placed pictures and knickknacks given to him by those closest to him.

Once he felt calm again, an excruciatingly long time later, he restrained his magic and carefully put away the Containment Orb for its future use. He breathed for a moment longer before he pulled out quill and parchment and got to work.

_Lucius,_

_Our favorite little hellion has been poisoned and the _illustrious_, _watchful_, and _caring_ Headmaster refuses to allow me to do anything about it. In fact, he doesn’t seem to care that it happened, and even thinks it was a damn prank that went wrong. _

_ She almost _died_ before Poppy and I were able to stabilize her the night before last. She seems to react better to Dark and Gray type healing spells, rather than the Light that have been used on her. _

_ I find myself curious as to which Core type she has. Are you?_

_ But, I also find that I’ll kill her parents with my bare hands if they have done anything so horrific to her as to have changed her Core type from what it was when she was born. Did you know she was born a Light Core? Not _just_ a Light type, but a mere step down from a _Pure_ type Core._

_ Also, I feel I should mention that he refuses to do anything to try and find out just _who_ put her name into the Tournament._

_ I am loathe to admit it, but I find myself helpless here with my hands tied as they are._

Do_ something, Lucius._

_ Severus_

He quickly made his way to the Owlery and sent the letter off with his black barn owl, Artemis. He would save her.

Even if it was the last thing he did.

Even if he had to sell his soul to the devil to do it.

* * *

_Wednesday, November 2, 1994_

_ Hospital Wing_

When Eden awoke, she was startled to see all of the fourth year Slytherin’s and all of the Slytherin prefects standing around her hospital bed. “What’s going on?” she demanded softly as she sat up.

“You’re being released today!” Pansy squealed.

About time. Tom had healed her the day before and she was _still_ stuck in the hospital wing. “Really?”

“Yep! Madam Pomphrey decided in the middle of the night that you were fine enough to leave. You still need to take it easy though.”

Eden narrowed her eyes and looked at the fourteen fourth years and the six prefects who had their wands drawn. “Why do I have an armed entourage to be released?”

They all exchanged looks. “Well,” Selwyn started, “the entire school is kind of pissed at you. They don’t believe that you testified under Veritaserum. They think you just lied your way out of trouble.

“Do…do you guys believe me?” No one but Tom and Leif had heard her sound so vulnerable before. She didn’t think she’d be able to make it through the day if her House was against her too.

“Most of the upper year Slytherin’s were in the hospital wing under disillusionment charms. The rest of us were outside of the wing. The Gryffindor’s were absolutely _pissed_,” Daphne explained as she shifted side to side. Her wand twirled in her hand.

She was nervous.

“We were trying to provide a barrier between you and them.”

“Ever since your name was drawn, at least five Slytherin’s have been standing outside the hospital wing. No one can get in unless they have a broken bone, and even then they’re escorted in and out by a Slytherin.”

To say she was shocked would be an understatement. “Really?” She had spent most of her time asleep, as she usually did when she was stuck in the hospital wing.

They all nodded. “Go get dressed, and then we’re going to breakfast.”

“Under no circumstances are you to be alone. You will _always_ have at least four people—_Slytherin’s_—with you at all times. And if you can’t be with four, you need to either be with Professor Snape, or in the common room. Do you understand?” Selwyn informed her.

It was clear that snakes didn’t trust anyone else in the school.

“Yessir!” She did a two finger salute and sent her magic into the tips of her fingers with a spell of her own making so it appeared like green and silver glitter was shooting out of the tips of them—she had been practicing on how to do that since she saw Marcus Flint do something similar when she was a second year.

“Go change,” Draco said with a fond smile as he ruffled her hair.

Pansy handed Eden her clothes, and she did as commanded, and soon the group of 21 were on their way to the great hall with Eden in the dead center. As they walked down the halls, other Slytherin’s that happened to see them—they had to be on some sort of strange patrol thing (there was no other reason as to why Slytherin’s would be out of the dungeons this early and _not_ in the great hall)—joined in until their group had more than tripled in size—definitely patrols.

_Great Hall_

When the large group stepped into the great hall, the room fell silent. Eden looked down and squeezed Draco’s and Pansy’s hands that were suddenly in her own. She was ushered to the table, her back to the wall, and the Slytherin’s piled in around her and her friends, the oldest and most skilled around them. As students—Slytherin’s—finished their breakfast, they would come and stand against the wall behind her.

It was only later, when she was escorted to class by Selwyn—the King of Slytherin—that she realized that she had sat across from him, in the place that the Queen of Slytherin usually sat while she sat next to the King.

She didn’t know what to do with that information.

* * *

_Thursday, November 2, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“I have had 17 attempts on my life today.”

Tom glared at Eden. “That is not the best thing to open up with, dearest,” he scowled, “are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Well, except for a cut I got while looking through books in the library, but, that’s beside the point. I have a very clingy House protecting me, and they almost went on a witch hunt to find someone to blame for my papercut.”

Tom chuckled. “Good. Very good. Why did they try and attack you?”

“Because they don’t believe that I didn’t put my name in the Goblet. So, I guess they think that murder is an appropriate solution.”

He growled and glared at the space in front of him. “Utter fools. Do they not know you testified under truth serum?”

“They don’t believe that I did. They think it’s just a rumor that’s been spread by my House. All of the Slytherin’s were either in or around the hospital wing when I testified.”

“Why were they there? Not at dinner, I mean?”

“Apparently the second that the fact my name had been drawn was processed, the entire House, almost as one, stood and ran towards the hospital wing. The upper years went under disillusionment charms, and were inside, while those who couldn’t cast them stayed outside as a barricade between me and the rest of the schools’.”

“I am glad to see that loyalty to our own has not change in…how many years?”

“More than one.”

Tom hissed and bore his teeth at her. “Why can’t you just tell me what year you were _born_? Or even what your first name is?”

Eden looked at him with exasperated fondness. “I have to protect the timeline, and you know I despise my first name.”

“Isn’t there a chance that you’ve already changed it?” he demanded softly as he wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss to her head.

“That’s a possibility, but, I can’t in good consciousness actually do something to directly put the timeline in danger, Tom.”

He sighed and pulled her over to the couch with him where he placed her on his lap. It wasn’t a Super Tom Bear Hug, but it was close. “I found a potion that will force you to sleep for an entire sleep cycle. The only way to wake you up while it’s in your system is _rennervate_.”

She nodded her head before she tilted it to the side. “A sleep cycle is only 90 minutes though.”

“Which is why you’ll take six swallows every night at 8 so we can train.”

“What about Astronomy?”

“You’ll just have to sleep in on Saturday’s,” he explained. He handed her a bottle with a dark blue liquid inside of it and a piece of parchment. “The bottle is the potion, and the paper is just in case the potion won’t transfer over.” It would be the first time they tried to move something other than parchment from past to present.

She took the offered objects. “Won’t people get worried if I’m going to sleep at 8? I’ve never gone to sleep that early before—at least, not since I was a baby.”

“Possibly. Just, make up some lie about why you’re sleeping so early, and if that doesn’t work, compulsion charms are wonderful things.”

She put the bottle in her ivory pearl purse that she wore everywhere—especially when sleeping—and grinned at Tom. He knew she had some type of bag on her, he just didn’t know what it was because it was invisible. She also couldn’t let him see it because he was _apparently_ the one who found it.

“_Why_ will I be sleeping every night at eight?”

“Because it will give us three hours to train you and prepare you for the Tournament, and still allow you time to do school work.”

Eden stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re psychotic, aren’t you?”

He just grinned, winked, and placed a kiss on her cheek—a little closer to her mouth than usual. “I have some books on past Tournaments and we’ll be researching those to try and figure out what the first challenge will be.”

“All I was told is that the challenge is designed to test my daring.”

He nodded thoughtfully and waved his hand. Two large books flew towards them at high speeds before they landed gently in her lap.

“It’s time to read, dear,” he urged as he grabbed the largest.

She climbed off his lap and together the two read until she fell asleep on his shoulder.

* * *

_Thursday, November 3, 1994_

_ Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom_

“Miss Potter, stay behind please,” Moody called as class ended.

The 15 Slytherin’s finished packing up their things before they all made their way to the front of the classroom with Eden in the middle of the group. “The rest of you are dismissed.” They all shifted uncomfortably. “If you feel the need to protect Miss Potter, you can stand right outside the door. I won’t hurt her, I promise.”

Fifteen sets of eyes sharpened at the last two words. Draco nodded his head, and Magic grew tight in the air as he Sealed it. The professor’s eyes widened slightly before Eden nodded and her friends. “I’ll be fine, guys. Go wait outside.”

“If you need help…scream,” Theo commanded as they all filtered out of the room. The door closed on his robes, and she giggled as she heard his muffled swearing.

They really were taking this seriously…perhaps too seriously, she thought as she thought of the Sealed promise. She didn’t blame them though, not really. Ever since she had been released from the hospital wing, there had been over thirty attempts to hex her, just from the Hogwarts students. She assumed something had been said to the other two schools because they didn’t attack her. They didn’t help, but, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Pardon?”

He growled low and licked his lips. “How are you coping with being a Champion?”

“Oh! Uhm…honestly sir, not well.”

“Why?”

She toed the ground with her foot as she stared at the space just beyond his head—it was the only crack in her Mask. “I didn’t want to participate, _at all_, and now I’m forced to do it, and I’m scared because I don’t know enough to survive.” She turned her gaze to him. “I have mere weeks left to live, and I get to spend the last of my life being abused by classmates. So no, professor, I’m not doing well at all.”

He was silent for a moment, and if she had kept her gaze on his eyes instead of adverting it, she would have seen a flash of guilt. “If you ever need help, I’m here.”

Eden stiffly nodded her head. “Thank you, sir.” She only answered to be polite.

There was a reason she called him Crazy Face.

“You are dismissed.”

She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and quickly left the room. She bumped into Theo as she did so, and the two fell over as the door slammed on the back of her heels. The group—of which three seventh years had joined—exploded into hysterical laughter, including the two children on the floor.

Theo’s hands were on her waist as her head rested on his heaving chest. The two could barely breathe they laughed so hard. The three seventh years moved forward and quickly untangled the two fourth years.

“Have a little harem now, do you?”

Great. A _weasel_ infestation.

The Slytherin’s all moved as one, as if they were all puppets controlled by the same master. The fourth years surrounded Eden while two of the seventh years—Selwyn and Locks—moved in front of them and one—Gilson—stayed behind her as she maneuvered her so her back was against the wall before she moved to stand with her fellow year mates.

“Move along, Weasley, Longbottom, Granger, _Potter_,” Selwyn demanded in a soft voice. The fourth years all tensed as they recognized the tone from whenever a battle of wills happened in the common room, which was often—every three weeks or so. It was usually him breaking up the fights, and that voice usually spelt trouble for all involved.

There was a reason he was the King two years running.

“Can’t I talk to my baby sister?”

There was a muffled 'Leif’ from Granger as everyone hesitated.

“No, you can’t,” she spoke up from the back of the group.

She caught a glance of her brother and saw Granger trying to pull him away. Granger was alright. She didn’t like when Leif attacked her verbally, and had tried to keep him away from her, and others away from her—especially since Leif had finally chosen a side.

But, Granger could only do so much when faced with such intense foolishness.

“You never wanted to talk to me at school before, and you never want to talk to me when we’re at home, so, no. You can’t talk to me now that I’m sentenced to death. You ignored my pleas for help too many times to make up for it now.”

“Move along,” Selwyn repeated in the sickeningly soft voice.

If they didn’t move, someone was going to be hexed, and it wasn’t going to be a snake.

“Let’s just go,” Eden urged. “We’re late for lunch.”

The group moved and they stepped around Leif and his friends, and stopped when he spoke again. “You’re a coward, sister. You always have been, and you always will be.”

He never knew when to stop and it seemed his time in his pretty little tower hadn’t helped.

“If I’m a coward, then you’re a disloyal chicken, _brother_,” she sneered. She pushed passed her Housemates despite their protests and rubbed her cuff behind her back, which calmed them only slightly. “You could _never_ have survived what I have been through since I was _five_. You stood back and _watched_ as mother dearest, and _father_—” her voice cracked (_oh_, how it still _burned_) “—dearest beat me with their fists and whipped me with their magic. You’ve stood back and watched as students—your _friends_—hexed, cursed, and hospitalized me.”

Eden ignored the other students from other Houses as they gathered around them. “And yet, here I am, standing tall—” she ignored the snickers “—happy, and _powerful_.” She let her magic crackle in the air around her and smiled harshly when he flinched slightly. “So _brother_, if that makes me a coward, then all of you lions are chickens, and we snakes are the true leaders of the Pride. Merlin knows we have more pride than you lot anyway.”

She ignored the cheers of Slytherin’s as she turned from her brother, and fought to wrestle her heartbreak back down to the abyss where it belonged.

* * *

_Friday, November 3, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“You’re early.”

“Yes, well, when your brother tries to kill you first with magic, and then with his fists, you tend to be able to bow out of homework for the rest of the night. Besides, I figured it would be ideal for our first training session to be longer than the others,” she explained.

She smiled with fond exasperation when he started to thoroughly check her over, and when that revealed nothing, started to chant. She grabbed his wand in one hand and his face in the other. “Tom, I’m fine.” She stroked his cheek. “The spells didn’t go anywhere do to the cuff, and before Bunny could even touch me, Selwyn had him on the ground with some curse he learned. I think he mentioned that his dad taught it to him…” Her eyes widened when she saw his wolfish grin. “Could you please perhaps maybe do me a favor and forget that?”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her close. “Not a chance in _Hell_, my dear,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’ll have to reward Androtheny and his kin now.”

“Who names their kind Androtheny?”

“Androtheny’s parents.”

Eden smiled unwillingly against his chest. “You don’t have to reward him. I doubt Selwyn’s father has even been born yet.”

“Still, I must teach all of my Knight’s that loyalty to one’s own is more important than taking the easy way out. Besides, if I train them now, their descendants will protect you better in the future.”

Eden sighed and shook her head. “I adore you, yet sometimes I want to hit you over the head with a large, heavy object. I often feel it is vital to my health to do so, actually.” Tom laughed deeply.

“Oh, my dearest, after today, I will be shocked if you don’t at least try to do so. But first, how long will you be here?”

“You are stuck with my _glorious _presence until 11,” she said as she rest her chin on his chest and looked up at him. She frowned as she finally got a good look at him. “Why do you have dark circles?”

“I spent most of the night getting ready.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

He smirked. “I’ll show you.”

He took her hand and pulled her to a trunk that looked eerily similar to the one that sat at the foot of her bed. Instead of gray—‘gunmetal’—it was black and had no special adornments to make it worth looking at.

He pulled out his bone-white wand and drew a straight vertical line on the top. He opened the trunk and gestured for her to go first. She looked down at the spiral staircase with narrowed eyes and looked at him.

“If there is _anything_ with more than four legs down there, I’m hexing you.”

He smirked and gestured once more. “After you, dear.”

Eden groaned before she climbed into the trunk and descended the stairs into a large room. “Woah!” she cooed when she got to the bottom; her voice echoed slightly. “This is bigger than my library!” It was almost twice the size, and double the height.

“Do you like it?” he asked from the top of the stairs; she didn’t notice the slight apprehension in his voice.

“What is it supposed to be?”

It was a stone room that was teeming with magic. In one corner sat a large pile of pillows—did he _really _need that many? (the pile was taller than both him and her combined and the base was wider than the Slytherin and Ravenclaw table width combined). Along one wall were mannequins that were terrifyingly life-like spaced every ten feet. There was a wooden obstacle course to the left of the stairs that took up half of the space, and many more…things that she couldn’t even begin to name.

“It’s an area to safely practice spells.”

Eden looked around again in awe. “You did all of this for me?”

He smiled with genuine happiness, and his eyes lit up as he did so. “That’s not all, come.”

She quickly ascended the stairs and was panting by the time she reached the top. “There really needs to be a better way to get up those stairs,” she gulped.

“You’ll figure it out, dear. You always do.”

Oh, how she wanted to hit him.

He took her hand and helped her out of the trunk—it wasn’t needed, three years of her own Trunk had made her quite agile (it was appreciated though). He closed the lid and drew a 2 on top. He opened it and hot air hit her in the face. She leaned over and nearly lost her balance. “Let me go first,” he said gently. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist from when she stumbled and his heart pounded erratically against her ear.

He entered the trunk and helped her onto the narrow step—it was 10 inches wide, but, for what she could see, it was _far_ too narrow. He carefully guided her shaking body down the narrow staircase—why did he think the stairs needed to be _see through_?—and onto the attached metal platform ten feet below the opening.

“You’re _mental_, Tom,” she hissed as she took in the giant room.

They were about five hundred feet in the air, and the room was significantly larger than the last. The walls were a light blue with fluffy white clouds charmed to float about as if wind blew on them. There were even clouds actually _in_ the room, not just on the walls and ceiling. The ground was—probably—charmed to have soft viridian grass and fragrant dirt. The ceiling gave off a slightly unpleasant heat, and she was soon sweating in her long sleeved shirt and yoga pants.

“Why is it so hot?”

“Because the ceiling has been spelled to act like the sun.”

“You mean this entire ceiling, with _thousands_ of square feet, is charmed to act like the bloody _sun_?”

“It’s 4 and a half million, but, essentially, yes.”

Eden’s legs gave out on her, and he once again scrambled to catch her before she plummeted to her death. “_Why_?”

“Because it’s a flying course, dear—”

“Magical Motion Sickness ring any bells?”

He ignored her and continued on. “—you’ll be training with a broom in here. There are spells, traps, and wards set up to teach you to fly better in case you need it, and, when you’re able to, you’ll practice flying without a broom. The sun gives energy, so you’ll be getting energy while you’re in here.”

Eden shook her head incredulously. “You’re utterly mad, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

He gave a Cheshire grin and winked. “All the best people are. Come, there’s more to see.”

He pulled her up the stairs and closed the lid once they were both safely out. “Where did you even get this idea?”

“From your own trunk. It’s just…significantly…larger than yours.”

“I can tell. How big is the smallest room?”

“About 50,000 square feet.”

“And the biggest?” She was afraid of the answer.

“Fifteen million.”

Her eyes widened and she blinked three times as she processed the information. “I knew it.” She blinked some more and shook her head slightly. “You belong in Bedlam.” Tom scowled, and her heart sank. She hit a nerve, and it was one she never wanted to hit—she hit it once when she was a first year, and she had tried to stay away from it since. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. You shouldn’t have,” he said eventually, his tone icy. He drew a 3 on the lid. “But, it’s only because you’re you that I’m forgiving you and not hexing you to the ends of the earth.”

He opened the lid and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist from behind. She ignored the frozen air that attacked her left side. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

Tom sighed and turned in her arms before he pressed a kiss to her head as he finally returned her embrace. “I know you are, it’s just….”

“The orphanage, I get it. I really do. If it wouldn’t risk changing my world,” she started, “they’d all be dead by my hands.”

He ran his hand up and down her back, only slightly—okay, _very_—concerned about the warmth in his chest. He pressed another kiss to her head and breathed in her sweet scent before he pulled away.

He stepped into the trunk before he helped her in. “Do you think you could open another room while someone is in here?” she asked as they descended the stairs—it was the only thing he hadn’t covered in some form of ice (he _refused_ to risk her slipping and breaking her neck).

“I don’t know. If we try it, we’re going to try it on poor, unsuspecting Hogwarts students who we will then obliviate.” His heart lifted at her snort of laughter.

“You are completely wicked, aren’t you?” she teased as a shiver shook her entire body. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “What’s the p-point of this r-room?” she asked, no doubt confused about the icy tundra.

“Survival skills. Lighting fires without having access to ideal supplies; warming charms, things like that. I was reading more after you left, and you’re not allowed to have any magical things that can do that for you while you’re competing.

“I don’t think they’re going to send me to the North Pole, Tom.”

He stood behind her and wrapped his body around her and tried to give her even a fraction of his warmth—a part of him viciously sang an ancient and primal lullaby at their close proximity. “They’re still necessary skills to learn. You never know what they’re going to put you up against.”

“I don’t think freezing me to death is meant to ‘test my daring’. Now, can we get out of here? I’m freezing.”

Tom chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hold on tight, love.”

Eden turned in his grasp and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and ignored the way her heart sped and thumped painfully in her chest at the endearment. Their feet left the ground, the nausea sunk deep into her bones.

Soon her feet were back on solid ground, and the lid closed with a soft thud. He pulled her to his chest and started to rub his hands roughly up and down her arms to bring back her warmth. She rested her head against his chest and took deep breaths to try and quell the urge to vomit.

That was probably even worse than the boat ride in first year—it was definitely worse than flying a broom.

“How are you so warm?” she mumbled as she slid her arms around his waist.

“I cast a warming charm before going in.”

“Why didn’t you cast one on me?” she whined.

“Where would the fun be in that?”

“Sadist.”

He laughed deeply and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Are you ready to move on?”

“If it’s another frozen wasteland then no.”

“It’s much warmer than that, I promise.”

“What’s the temperature?”

“67 degrees.”

“And the last one?”

“Negative 30.”

“Super Sadist. That’s what your name should be. Not whatever it is you have planned.” He refused to tell her what his Dark Lord name would be. He said that she would only ever be allowed to call him ‘Tom’. Something about him liking the way she said his name.

She didn’t really understand it.

“I don’t think Lord Super Sadist would strike fear into people’s hearts.”

“I think you don’t know people as well as you think you do if you think that.”

He pulled away from her and ignored her as she whined and tugged on him to get him back and drew a four. She gave up on forcing cuddles out of him and climbed into the trunk with a glare leveled at her best friend. She stopped seven steps down and stared in confusion. “Tom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why do you have a giant…knot…of stone pathways?” she asked the man as he came to stand right behind her.

That was truly the only way to describe what she currently saw. The stone pathways were about five feet in width and honestly looked like someone had taken them and tangled them all together before they dropped them and left them. Some were parallel to the ground, others to the walls, and some were even upside down, the bottom of the paths covered in thick dirt. Some went straight up or straight down and very few were flat.

The walls and ceilings were charmed to look like a bright sunny day, and it was a fairly pleasant temperature—definitely better than the last two.

“It’s to practice running and sticking charms.”

“That would require me to constantly place and remove them in order to actually move forward.”

“Exactly. You’ll eventually get to the point where your magic will do it as automatically as your body breathes.”

“Really?”

“I think so…” he hesitated. “I’ve read about things like that. Where if you practice something so many times like this, eventually it will be done automatically.”

“So…not only is this training to prevent my death, it’s for your experimentation.”

“Pretty much. Although, you won’t be dying. Not if I have any say in the matter, and, because it’s you, I _do_ have a say in the matter.”

She rolled her eyes fondly. “You’re doing this with me.”

“Agreed.”

In room five was a giant forest full of poisonous plants and creatures. Why he thought it necessary, she would never know, because ‘it’s to practice dealing with dangerous things’ would never be a good enough answer for her.

Really, it was like he was _trying_ to kill her.

Number six was her least favorite, by far. She would never know how, but he had somehow _grown_ a _volcano_ in a _trunk_. It was like some sick game of the floor is lava, only instead of the ground being something innocent like grass or carpet, it was _actual lava_.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” she demanded once they were out of the too hot room. They were both wiping sweat off of their faces. They hadn’t even descended the stairs past where they could actually see into the room, and the heat was unbearable.

“I’m helping you.”

“Tell that to the _magma_ and _lava_ in that room!” she snarled.

He gave a knowing smirk. “Do you trust me?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Then trust me that you will be _fine_. I would never intentionally put you in the path of certain—or even _uncertain_—death, alright?”

She stared at him for a moment. “I’m going to assume for what little of my sanity remains, that there are safety spells in place to keep me from dying.”

He didn’t respond. He drew a seven on the lid and opened it. The first thing that reached Eden’s nose from the room was the smell of brine. “Please tell me you didn’t put a bloody ocean in this.”

“Go and see.”

She jumped into the trunk, and low and behold, there was a large mass of water that took up 95% of the floor. The water was a crystal clear blue and rippled gently as a breeze blew across the water.

“Do you like it?”

“You’re absolutely mental. Brilliant, but mental,” she said fondly as she stared at the charmed walls to appear as if they were on the black sand beaches of Iceland.

“I’m glad you like it.” He checked his watch. “Come, we have more to see and not enough time before I have to start getting ready for class.”

“You need to eat,” she insisted as he drew an eight on the lid.

“And I will, when I’ve finished showing you what I spent most of yesterday and all of last night doing.”

She sighed in resigned acceptance as he opened the trunk and gestured for her to go first. She walked down ten steps before she looked up and froze. “Holy Morgana that’s a dragon!” she shrieked as it flew towards her. She scrambled up the metal staircase and out of the trunk, and just barely slammed it closed in time to avoid the flames. “Why the bloody hell is there a bloody dragon in your trunk?”

“Because I conjured it. It’s stronger than a normal dragon, so, if you can defeat it, you can defeat anything.”

Eden sat on the trunk and pressed a shaky hand against her heart as it pounded in her chest. “You’re crazy. Utterly, without question, crazy.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Only for you, love. Now stand, we have two more rooms.”

“Two?” she whined.

“Up.” She groaned loudly as she did as demanded, and once the lid was open, insisted that he went first. “This is the room that I suspect you will be spending the most time in for the first challenge,” he explained as he helped her in. He led her down the steps and they stared out at the cold, dry wasteland that covered the biggest room she had seen so far.

There were dead trees, bushes, and what looked to be like a dried out river, and even a deep canyon or two. There was a brown, rocky mountain with jagged spikes against the farthest wall that appeared to have a building of some sort on it.

As she stared at the dusty room, about a mile above the somewhat flat ground, sorrow filled her. “It’s sad, you know. Knowing that there are places like this that actually exist in my time. Places that once thrived, and is now nothing but dust. I always imagined that they’d be a little more…living, I guess. Not this dead…but now I understand the term barren wasteland.”

Tom rubbed her back, and the two left the room.

“The next one is the largest, and inarguably the most dangerous. You won’t be coming in here without me, _ever_. Do you understand?”

“Yessir!” she saluted, and green and silver magical sparks left the tips of her fingers.

He smiled at her fondly. “I’m glad that you’ve finally figured out how to do that. But now, you need to be very serious for this next part, alright?” She bit her lip and nodded—still very grateful that she had some self-control (if what he said was true, if she was Sirius for this next part, she’d be dead)—and the lid was opened after a large 10 was drawn on it.

They entered the compartment and Eden froze on the steps as a loud, vicious roar penetrated through the largest room. “What was that?”

“That was most likely Abyss.”

“Excuse me? What?”

“He’s a Hellhound.”

“You _named_ a _Hellhound_?” she shrieked. In response, more horrifying roars sounded.

“Well, he’s conjured, so, he’s not really real.” A large black bird—was that a _raven_?—flew towards them and he shot a bright blue spell at it and it flew away.

“No. Not a chance in _Hell_, Tom. I’m not going down there.” She stated as she stared out at the dark labyrinth. This entire thing covered fifteen _million_ square feet? She could barely see the other wall.

“Remember what I said? You’re not coming in her without me, ever. And, I _will_ know if you even try to, alright?”

Eden nodded, and when another horrifying roar echoed around the large space, she sprinted up the stairs and stumbled out of the trunk and landed hard on her knees.

Hands were quickly on her and helped her up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he healed her knees. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“What’s in there Tom, and how much of it is conjured?”

“A majority of it is conjured. It’s a mixture of magical and non-magical creatures. There are twenty different creatures, and each, baring the Hellhound, and five of them.”

“And how many Hellhounds are there?”

“It’s just Abyss.”

“What’s not conjured?”

“Two of the five Hippogriff’s, the bogarts, and one of the griffins.”

“How did you get a griffin in a day?”

“I have connections, as you well know.”

She couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across her face. “Yes, I know. Now, I do believe it is time for you to eat.” 

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Eden sat on the floor after she finished the stretches she had been commanded to do by Tom. “So, which level of Hell am I going to be in today?” she asked in an overly perky voice.

He smiled at her and fondly rolled his eyes. “You’ll be in the Training Arena today. Once you’re in there, I will instruct you on what you’ll be doing.”

She nodded her head before she stood, drew a one on the trunk, and climbed inside.

_Compartment 1—Training Arena_

She started down the steps and expected Tom to be right behind her. Once at the bottom, she turned around and frowned when she saw she was alone. “Tom?” she shouted. “Where are you?”

“There is no need to shout dear, I can hear you just fine.”

Eden flinched and looked around. “Where are you?” His voice had sounded like it had come from everywhere at once.

“I am currently sitting on the sofa reading a book while sipping at my morning tea. Now, go over to one of the training dummies, it doesn’t matter which one.” She did as instructed and once she was in front of one, he spoke again, and she flinched once more. “Now, I want you to send a cutting hex towards it.”

She stared at the life-like dummy and frowned. “Why does it look so real?”

“It’s to allow you to get used to attacking people. We need to prepare for everything. Now attack.”

She sighed and with a swish of her wand and a muttered spell, a light pink light left her wand and landed in the torso of the dummy. It split open, and what appeared to be thick blood oozed out. “Tom!” she wailed as she adverted her gaze.

“Pay attention!” he hissed.

She groaned, but returned her gaze to the object and her eyes widened. “_Protego_!” The blue shield rose just in time to block the _diffindo_ that had been returned towards her. “Tom!” she shrieked again.

“Duel.”

And that was how she spent the next three hours: battling against a dummy that bled and returned her spells at the same strength, speed, and velocity that she used against it. As her frustrations grew, her spells increased in strength until she was sent into the air and into a soft pile of fluffy pillows that had moved as one to catch her. “Dammit Tom!” she hissed as she rubbed her aching butt.

“Language, darling dearest.”

“Screw you, Tom.” She lifted herself off of the pillow pile and groaned as she stretched and her back popped painfully. “I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you would take dreamless sleep potion,” he informed her, his voice far too perky for her liking.

“Don’t tempt me.”

His warm chuckle echoed around her. “Admit it, love, you need me.”

She sent a volley of spells towards the dummy. “I honestly think I’d have a better time learning on my own than being _attacked_—” she squealed and jumped to the side as spells shot towards her “—by a possessed dummy that _bleeds_!”

“It’s not possessed. It’s just spelled.”

“That’s the same thing—_dammit_!” she hissed as she clutched her bleeding arm. “I’m done for today.”

“I agree. In the corner by the stairs, you’ll find a small cupboard in the wall. Inside is a cream that will heal you.”

The dummy moved back to its spot along the wall and began to ‘heal’ as she smeared the cream on her bleeding arm through her torn up shirt. “Note to self—pack athletic clothes.” She put the jar of cream back and slowly pulled herself up the stairs.

Merlin she was exhausted. It wasn’t the kind of exhaustion that sent her back to her time. It was the bone deep exhaustion; the one that turned your limbs to jelly and your insides to fire.

She sat down on the steps about halfway up and put her head between her legs. “Are you alright?” he asked gently.

“Just worn out.”

“Rest, love.”

She nodded her head and allowed her eyes to drift closed. “What time is it?” she asked softly.

“Almost eleven.”

She nodded her head once more. A yawn stretched her mouth wide and caused her eyes to water. “I’ll see you later,” she said through another yawn.

“Have a good day, little one.”

“You too.”

She faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it. I kind of love that Tom goes so overboard by actually not sleeping for three days to make that trunk. 
> 
> Also, my baby sister will make Severus' fantasies look like children stories if I don't tell you this. Abyss belongs to her. He's not really a hellhound, but he is a hellhound in her own world that she's created. I'm toning him down both in size and personality, because...well...he's a little too...much for this. I mean... his canines in her world are six feet long. so....yeah. He's just like...8 feet tall in this. You will actually meet him in later chapters. I promise. I'm just delaying my death by putting this here and now.
> 
> And before any of you ask...she kind of insisted, and she's constantly begging me what your reactions are, and I have to constantly tell her, "they haven't met him yet, calm down."
> 
> ALSO! I won't be posting again until the 12th of October because this weekend I have plans. I figured early was better than late.


	11. 10 Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a long author’s note at the end that you don’t have to read. It’s just an update about life and the possible future of this fic.

_Friday, November 4, 1994_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

Eden had just finished tying her tie when her roommates began to wake up.

She had laid in bed for a couple hours and read before she got up and ready for the day—she was _sore_.

“How are you doing?” Pansy asked softly after she yawned.

Sucky.

“I’m okay.”

“You slept like a baby all night long. Are you sure you’re fine?”

She smiled softly at her best female friend. “Positive. Don’t worry, alright?”

“I’m your best friend—despite what Draco says. It’s my job to worry.” 

|}(){| 

_HEADMASTER OF OUR ILLUSTRIOUS HOGWARTS UNCARING?_

_ My dear readers, it has been brought to my rapt attention that the esteemed Headmaster of our very own Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has allowed the _poisoning_ of one of our dear students—our _children_—under his ‘watchful’ gaze._

_ From what I understand from my contact—who wishes to remain anonymous at this time—and what little research have been able to do since the Incident, the Head of House for the student—who shall remain anonymous at this time as she is still a minor—has been _begging_ the Headmaster to allow him to look for those who committed such a heinous act, but has been denied due to the man thinking it was just a prank gone wrong._

_ What I am allowed to say on the poisoning, is that it was _Aegrotus Venenum_ that was used (for more information see page 4). Other than the poison used, I know not the circumstances or the specifics, only that the student is currently alive. I assure you, my dear readers, that Me, Myself, and I fully intend to find out._

_Faithfully yours,_

_ Rita Skeeter._

Green eyes watched the Headmaster, and was displeased to see his eyes continue to sparkle as if nothing was wrong.

One day he would fall. And on that happy day, she would have a hand in making it happen.

She Promised that.

* * *

_Saturday, November 4, 1944_

_ Compartment 1—Training Arena_

Eden screeched as the bright pink spell hurtled towards her at a shocking speed.

She dodged to the side and was just able to put up a weak shield to block it when it suddenly turned around to hit her. “What was that?” she demanded as she panted heavily after she got her breath back from the spell that shattered her shield and sent her to the ground.

“_Diffindo_ mixed with the boomerang charm.”

“That’s positively _evil_!” she hissed. She stood and groaned as her body reacted negatively to the movement. “Teach me.”

“As you wish, love,” he replied with a wink.

She blushed and adverted her eyes. He had been strangely…flirty these last few weeks. She was unsure if it was for the Blushing Game, or if he was genuinely flirting with _her_.

She didn’t know how to feel about either answer.

He came up behind her and guided her hand in the movements, and then taught her the words. When she cast the spell and it worked on the seventh try, she jumped on him and hugged him tightly. “It worked!” she giggled.

His arms went around her and caged her to him. “Well done, my darling dearest. Now, let’s have you practice it and the other three spells against the dummy.”

“Why can’t I practice against you?” she moaned against his chest.

“Because I don’t make it a habit of holding back, and this way you’re always training with something the same skill level as you.” He placed a soft kiss on her furrowed brow and retreated five steps to watch.

She fought with the dummy for an hour as Tom continually pushed her harder and harder until, finally fed up with both the doll and Tom, she shot a curse at the dummy and sent it back fifteen feet. It stood up, its head tilted at a disgusting angle and only held on with a thin strip of…flesh? The next thing she knew, she was against the stone wall 30 feet behind her before she fell 10 feet to the floor on a singular pillow that had been faster than the rest.

The rest decided that they wanted to be helpful and buried her.

“Why is it so much stronger than me?” she moaned as Tom quickly flew over to her and unburied her from the murder attempt of approximately 150 pillows.

“Because you sent a powerful spell at it, it responded with the same amount of power. It’s not stronger than you, little one, you just merely aren’t used to deflecting such strong magic,” he explained, laughter evident in his voice.

“You’re just a garden variety sadist, aren’t you?” Eden panted as she spit blood out of her mouth.

“Oh no, my dear, never garden variety.”

“You’re still a sadist.”

“I never denied that, my love. Now, let me heal you.”

“Not with—”

“If you deny me _Medela Aer, **one more time**_, I swear I will stun you and heal you with it anyway.”

Eden scowled before she lost all fight and slumped. “Fine.”

“Why do you hate it so much? Other than how Draining it can be.”

“That’s the only reason. I hate how the only spells that are capable of healing me while I’m here are super Draining on you.”

“My darling, the spells I use to heal you are Dark spells because I can’t cast the Light versions of them. And—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Dark magic as a whole is stronger than Light magic, and even Neutral magic. But, why do the Dark spells work on me?”

“I assume you have a Neutral type Core. Perhaps even nearing on a Dark type core. Neutral Cores are the only Cores that are capable of casting all magic and are able to be healed by all magic. They just aren’t necessarily safe from the Dark Addiction that kills so many people after turning them insane. In fact, the only ones who are actually immune to the Dark Addiction is Pure Dark Cores, Dark Cores, and Dark Gray Cores. Dark Neutral Cores are more likely to be able to fight the Addiction, along with Dark Light Gray Cores, but anything above a Dark Gray Core is in danger of the Addiction.”

“Wait, okay…back to the healing aspect of that Fountain of Words…so, someone with a Dark type Core can’t be healed with Light magic?”

“They can be. It just takes much, much, _much_ longer than if they were to be healed with Dark magic and vice versa. What’s wrong?”

“Why don’t they teach us this in school?”

“Because people are scared of power. Remember, Eden, there is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it.”

* * *

_Sunday, November 6, 1994_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

Eden sat in bed, the bottle held tightly in her hands.

She’d only have a couple minutes to put it down before she’d be asleep once she took it. She checked her back one last time for her new clothes before she stowed her wand in it.

“Eden?”

She shoved the bottle under her emerald green bedding just before Pansy poked her head between her hangings. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve just…. You’ve just been sleeping a lot lately.” Pansy sat on the edge of her bed.

Eden smiled and forced a yawn. “I’m fine. I’ve just been super stressed with the Tournament.”

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you, okay”

Eden gave a genuine smiled and wrapped her arms around the girl who immediately wrapped her own back—it was rare when Eden initiated contact. “I know. Thanks, Pans.” Her friend got off her bed and the curtains shut, and she took the potion.

She fell asleep the moment her hand let go of the stoppered bottle.

* * *

_Monday, November 6, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“Today you’ll be in the wasteland—”

“Which one?”

“Dead. Now stay quiet. Before you go in, while I eat, you’re going to stretch and I’ll tell you about the research that I’ve done.” Eden nodded her head, and with a wave of her wand, her clothes were changed magically so she was wearing a different pair of yoga pants—these ones had snakes charmed all over them that danced—and a green sports bra, also charmed to have moving snakes—for as much as wizards claimed to hate muggles, they did seem to like stealing their clothing designs (or could it be the other way around?).

She sat down on the floor and began to stretch. “Now, in my studies—what are you wearing?” She almost lost her composure and started laughing at the scandalized tone.

“Clothes.”

He sighed. “Why is your stomach showing?” His voice was deep and husky as she moved to do a table top stretch. Her back arched into a perfect upside down ‘U’—Narcissa was quite fond of yoga and often forced Eden to do it with her whenever she was within the vicinity.

“This is common workout attire in my time.”

He cleared his throat and the sound of shuffled papers reached her ears. She looked at him and saw a pink stain on his cheeks.

Was he _blushing_?

She mentally shook her head. She was probably just imagining things.

“Well, I have decided that the first challenge will most likely have something to do with magical creatures.”

She shifted into splits and leaned forward so she held the arch of her foot. “What makes you say that?”

“All of the other first challenges had something to do with some sort of dangerous magical creature.”

“Huh.” She was silent as she once again shifted her position. “Lovely.”

“We’ll begin training with spells that work on most magical creatures.”

“But…I thought that most magical creatures were impervious to magic.”

“That’s true. It’s not true for all of them though. And besides, there’s a branch of magic that’s almost guaranteed to work against most magical creatures. However, you will have to check the legality of it in your time though.”

“What is it?” She pulled out a piece of parchment from her bag and wrote it down, along with a book that would tell her its status. “I will get back to you on that tomorrow. What spells am I going to be working on today?”

“None. Today you’ll be climbing.”

She paused as she thought of all of the rooms. “Wait—I have to climb the mountain?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be dropping me off at the base?”

That smirk should be illegal. “No. You’ll need to get to it on your own.”

He just earned another painful joke in the horcrux.

“You—you—you—**_How_**?” she demanded in a hiss.

“**I’m sure you’ll figure it out, love**. Now, into the trunk with you.”

Eden finished her stretched and stood before she glared at him. “Dictator.”

“You adore me,” he replied as she opened the trunk.

“That is a very debatable statement.” 

_Compartment 9—Barren Wasteland_

“Stop laughing at me you bastard!” Eden shrieked as she hung upside down. “You’re supposed to be paying attention in class!” she continued.

She had been in the trunk for a little over an hour. She had gotten down the stupid amount of stairs—she started counting around a fourth of the way down and got to 1,000 before she lost count and proceeded to slide down the railing (that had induced a couple heart attacks—10/10 would not recommend sliding down a tight spiral staircase that was over a mile in length—depth?)—ten minutes prior, and was nowhere near the mountain.

She prayed to Morgana that she’d start where she left off the next time he decided to do this, although not exactly where she was at that moment.

“You will find that I am a very capable person, my dearest, little one. It is quite simple to pay attention to class when I have already taught myself what they are currently learning, and still be able to watch over you effectively while you train.” She could hear the laughter in his voice.

She could _feel_ the laughter.

“It’s not funny!” she desperately shrieked.

“Oh, my dearest, that’s where you’re wrong. It is quite hilarious, quite possibly one of the most funny things I have ever seen, in fact. It is extremely difficult to not laugh out loud,” he informed her joyfully.

“Oh, I’m so _sorry_ that _my_ _pain_ is causing _you_ to struggle. Your _sadism_ is causing _me_ to struggle!” It was silent. “Tom! Get me out of here!” she screamed after a moment.

She blamed it on the blood that rushed to her head.

She tried to lift herself out of the two rocks she had fallen between and tried to ignore the way blood dripped up—down?—her leg from her broken—probably mutilated never to be used again—ankle. She grabbed for an outcropping of rock two feet to her left and six inches above—down from—her head. She lifted her right leg from its bent position against her chest and pressed her bare foot flat against one of her two captors. She began pushing on the rock while she pulled on her left leg in an attempt to get it out. She twisted her hips and gripped at the rock above her head and cried out as she felt the flesh tear and stone grind against her bone.

The only reward she got for her pain was a pop before she slid down two inches, which resulted in complete loss of feeling in the appendage.

“If I need a peg leg after this, Tom, I will forever torture you with pirate puns. I’ll make as many Horcruxes as needed to make sure you suffer for all of eternity too!”

Five minutes later full of threats, vile, and not so vile curses—“I promise I’ll learn how to cast the Cruciatus and use it on you like it’s a tickling charm and then get something to excrete on you, I swear to Merlin, Tom!”—there were hands on her legs as they freed her—quite painfully—from her predicament and lifted her out of the gap. “You’re supposed to be in class,” she said as she rubbed her head; it throbbed with the pain of blood rushing out of it as her vision spun.

“Actually, darling,” he started with a chuckle as he examined the mess that was her ankle, “I’m supposed to be in the hospital wing.”

Her eyes widened as worry gripped her head. “What? Why? What happened? Are you alright—that _hurt_, dammit! Are you hurt?” Tom looked up from her freshly healed ankle and grinned at her, his short straight brown hair fell into his eyes, and her heart thumped. His eyes were black along with his lips, and she knew he used the Cure of Obsidian—she knew his hands would be black and as hard as stone for quite a while longer as well. The odd coloring on his face quickly faded, and her Tom was back.

“I’m supposed to be there because I had an uncontrollable coughing fit, and I was dismissed to the hospital wing so I could get healed. I wasn’t able to make it, however, because along the way, I had another fit. Quite a few, actually.”

Eden tilted her head to the side with her left brow furrowed before realization struck and lashed out and kicked his firm thigh. “You laughed at me during class?”

He pulled her violently kicking and scratching body close and pressed a kiss against her forehead that calmed her inner beast instantly. “Yes, I did. And it was entirely your fault as well.”

“Sadist,” she grumbled after a moment, reluctant fondness clear in the insult. She settled further into his embrace and relaxed as his arms wrapped more tightly around her and held her tight against his firm chest.

He placed a kiss to the top of her head and started rocking them softly side to side. “My lovely little masochist.”

* * *

_Friday, November 10, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“Eden.”

She looked up from her stretches and met Tom’s fond gaze. “Yessums?”

“I need to check your Core.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Because there are some spells that I want to teach you that would be very useful against creatures with skin that’s resistant to most magic, but those spells can only be safely performed by those with a Dark type Core.”

She frowned, her lips canted to the left as she did so. “Oh, well, I don’t think I’ll be able to safely cast them. My entire family is entirely Light. Have been for generations. It’s actually nauseating how Light they are. I was told I was born with a Light Core, now that I think about it…”

Tom smirked as if he knew something she didn’t—a common occurrence (but there were also things that she knew and he didn’t—and didn’t _that_ piss him off). “Will you humor me?”

Eden fondly rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, but allowed him to check. Shock pulsed heavily in her head and heart when the large sphere in front of her indicated a Pure Dark Core. “How?” she sputtered.

“It appears that your family’s abuse of you has altered what your Core would naturally be. Don’t worry, my dear, that’s perfectly normal. And, you can thank your family for the abuse.”

“Why the bloody hell would I thank them for that?” she asked appalled.

“Because,” he started as he moved to her and wrapped her in his arms, “they have made you so much stronger than you would be without it.” They stood like that for a while longer. Neither felt the need to break the moment for the time being. “Now,” he started as he pulled away, “these are the spells I want you to read on, and then once you’ve finished reading, it’s into the trunk with you.”

She took the book with stiff bookmarks that stuck out of it. “Which room?”

“Training Arena. One.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left for class as she settled down to read while she stretched her legs.

* * *

_Friday, November 11, 1944_

_ Great Hall_

Even though Eden had never taken part of an intervention, nor have anyone intervene with her life in quite that manner, she knew that what was happening was, in fact, an intervention.

Ever since she had been chosen as a Champion, she had developed a new schedule for her days. She’d wake up at 5 after the potion wore off, and she’d get dressed and sneak up to the kitchens for a small breakfast before she’d then sneak into the library with her Ring. She’d then spend an hour in the Restricted Section reading up on spells, and then an hour in the main library, doing the same, only with slightly more legal spells.

She’d make copies of the spells she wanted to learn, and shoved the parchments into the diary that Uncle Moony had given her, which would then be placed into an empty Gringotts pouch—holy mother of _Merlin_ that took a lot of time to do so—which would then be shoved into her pearl bag. She’d then go to the great hall with her friends to grab a second breakfast for her ravenous stomach—who knew training while you were asleep would make you stupidly hungry (to her real body it was 9 hours of constant exercise)—and then she’d switch from Champion Mode to Student Mode and go to classes and wouldn’t think about the Tournament until she held the dark blue potion in her hands.

Today, however, she was ambushed at breakfast—did it count as an ambush if she was already there with them?

“We’re worried about you,” Theo started from across from her. They no longer sat in the middle of the table where the Royalty sat, but they still sat fairly close to it—if they didn’t they were pulled (pushed) to sit next to them.

“Why?” she asked after she swallowed her oatmeal.

“Because you’re not training,” Pansy said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Eden snorted. “Don’t worry about me, I _promise_ I’m training.”

The bell rang and saved her from the need to make up lies to her closest friends. “This isn’t over, Eden,” Draco hissed as they made their way to class.

“I know.”

But how she wished it was.

* * *

_Thursday, November 23, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“Do you know how vile it is to force yourself to be sick in public?”

Eden hadn’t even opened her eyes yet, and she could already tell this visit was going to be an interesting one. “Uh, no…. But, I’m guessing that you’re about to tell me.”

He did.

And _Merlin_ was it vile what he did. “Why did you do that?” she asked as he finished off another cleansing charm to his mouth. She felt a little sick herself as her face contorted into a small grimace.

“So we could train together, and so I can help you calm down.”

“I am calm.” She ignored the nervous jittering of her hands.

“Eden,” he admonished softly, “I know you. You’ve been scared out of your mind since you were put into this Tournament. I’m going to stay with you today.”

Eden graced him with a wobbly smile and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Tom.”

After a brutal training session which required them to stop so he could heal her four times and once so she could heal him—it was a total fluke too (the shield she used against the dummy acted like a boomerang and Tom wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have been)—the two climbed out of the trunk, sweaty, covered in blood, and exhausted.

They collapsed on the couch and she curled up on his lap in a Super Tom Bear Hug. “I’m scared,” she admitted out loud for the first time. Her voice was soft and shaky.

“I know. And as much as I wish I could tell you that you have no reason to be, I can’t. I don’t lie to you—I _can’t_ lie to you. _Especially_ about something this big. All I can say, is that you’ve trained your butt off these last three weeks, and that you can do it. You have power on your side, Eden, and as long as you remember your training, you’ll do wondrous.”

A big yawn left her mouth. “Thank you, Tom.”

Tom pressed a kiss to her forehead—how he prayed it wouldn’t be the last. “Come back alive, Eden. I mean it.”

She nodded her head and pressed a kiss against his cheek—how his heart warmed in his chest. “I will.”

She was gone, and he prayed to Merlin, Circe, Morgana, Mordred, and the Olde gods that she would come back to him.

Alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you liked it. I love your feedback. Every time my phone beeps, I hope it is one of you. 
> 
> I want to give you a quick update. I have been having some health issues since April. At first the diagnosed me with cancer and let me tell you that was scary and awful and a little shocking and I typed 100,000 words in one week because my coping strategy is to write. After more doctors’ appointments, it turns out that I don’t have cancer. Woohoo!
> 
> The bad news, they have no idea what is wrong with me. They think it might be endometriosis, and I’ve been having a lot of tests done; as far as I know, the next step is surgery—I’m still waiting for results from the most traumatic doctor’s appointment of my life (please don't ask, I can't relive it again). 
> 
> I have an appointment with a surgeon at the end of the month, and so, the whole point of this authors note is to tell you that I might be having surgery at the end of the month, or the start of November, and updates might become sporadic because of that. I already have most of chapter 19 written and have all of the fic planned out until the very end, so you don’t have to worry about it becoming abandoned or anything like that.
> 
> I just wanted to let you guys know what’s going on in my life, I’ve tried to keep quiet about it, because cancer is a huge thing to tell people, and endometriosis is also a huge thing to be telling people—especially since all I’ve wanted for the last 8 or 9 years is to be able to have children, and to be told at 21 that I might not be able to have them is kind of heartbreaking.
> 
> One good thing that is coming from this whole messed up health situation, is that because I have somniphobia I write to get away from my pain instead of sleeping like a lot of people do. So, you may get even more than you expected. On that note, I actually have another Fem!Harry story in the last stages of editing, and I’ll start posting that as soon as I finish the 3rd rewrite—which will hopefully be the last rewrite. It started out as a one shot, and then the 2nd rewrite took it from 17,000 words to 24,000 words, so, it’s four parts now. It’s another Tomarry, and it’s an AU. So, keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Anyways, that’s my life, and I hope you guys enjoy the story and where it’s going. I hope you all have a wonderful day. Also, when I woke up today, I saw my phone flashing and my brain started chanting “Update Day! Update Day!” over and over like Shigure chants “high school girls, high school girls” in Fruits Basket.


	12. 11 The First Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... This is the fifth time that I have written this. As such, it has quite possibly become one of my most favorite things that I have ever written, along with the next chapter.  
Hope you like it  
:)

_Thursday, November 24, 1994_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

Eden kept her eyes closed and hoped against the far too real reality that she could just go back to sleep and hide in Tom’s warm—secure snug reliable _safe_—arms until the end of time.

It wasn’t fair.

_Nothing_ about this was fair.

She was sure—would bet vast amounts of money—that had it been Leif—perfect, sniveling, little _brat_ (oh how jealously clouded the mind)—whose name had been drawn, Old Dumbles wouldn’t have hesitated to break the very most basic laws of magic to get him out of the Tournament.

_Leif _wouldn’t have been put under the truth serum because he’s the bloody Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World, and he could do absolutely _nothing_ wrong because of it.

It honestly made her _sick_.

That wasn’t the first time that she had had those soul-crippling thoughts. Nor was it the first time that she allowed herself to be filled with indignant anger at the situation once it had settled in a couple days after her name had been drawn. In fact, it had come in quite handy while she was training, especially the last week leading up to the Task.

It was, however, the first time that she didn’t keep a tight grip on her anger, and allowed it to flow through her veins. Allowed the hatred of all those who were supposed to love—cherish treasure protect _shield_—her and care about her consume—burn eat destroy _kill_—her whole.

She opened her eyes and barely registered the faint green glow (that came from her eyes) that filled the enclosed space as she reined in her angry magic, but not her anger.

She slipped out of bed and moved to her tall—_way_ too tall—wardrobe and pulled out a black Acromantula silk robe lined with soft emerald green lace before she made her way to the common room, unaware of the eyes that watched her. 

_Slytherin Common Room_

She looked around the large room and took in the surroundings that had become home.

The large, floor to ceiling glass windows on the far wall between the two hallways that led off into the dormitories and showed the depths of the Black Lake—which was illuminated by spells placed by Salazar Slytherin himself.

The low ceilings—they were actually ten feet tall but compared to the rest of the castle, they were low—were draped with thin green and silver fabric woven with Magic that kept the large room from echoing too horribly.

The columns etched with Runes of multiple Magical origins, snakes, and home to many scars from violent duels over the centuries.

The warm, cloth covered settees, couches, and arm chairs dotted around the large room, and grouped together with end tables and coffee tables to make it feel not crowded, but also not bare.

The soft white fairy lights that lazily drifted around the room, and grouped around students when they were studying, reading, or playing games that required light.

There were bookshelves lining the right side—the ‘girls’ side—of the room, and all of the books had been donated by past students over the years and couldn’t be found in the main Library. It was a resource that had been quickly exhausted within the first four days of research due to Selwyn and the other seventh years doing their own research—using their contacts in the Ministry—and quickly realized the same thing that she and Tom had—sadly, most of the books were more than useless when it came to fighting magical creatures.

On the left side of the room was a large 35 foot long fireplace that crackled high, and warmed the entire dungeon living quarters—along with the fireplaces in the dorm rooms.

Doors were dotted on the remaining wall, and on either side of the massive fireplace—which she now stood in front of—that lead to private study rooms, and group study rooms. One of the doors also lead to Snakey-Snape’s office, and she stared at _that_ door for a long moment before she turned her full—agitated furious hectic _terrified_—attention to the orange and yellow flames.

She briefly wondered what it would feel like to be burned alive.

When one of the doors that lead to the main room opened behind her, she did nothing more than tilt and turn her head slightly, as if she were a dog who was trying to hear better. When the door closed, and she heard multiple pairs of footsteps, she realized just _which_ door had opened.

She reluctantly turned and came face to face with Snakey-Snape and _all_ of the fourth year Slytherin’s—not just him and her roommates like she had assumed. How they got to his office without her knowing, she would never know.

“I feel like you have all conspired against me,” she said as a reluctant smile spread across her full lips. They all grinned and guiltlessly nodded—except for Snakey-Snape, his lips twitched (score!).

“We wanted to make sure everything was alright. That _you_ are alright.”

“Your magic was pretty violent when you woke up…”

Eden ignored Daphne’s tired comment, and spoke to the group. “I’ve already told you guys—especially _you_, Pans and Dray—to not worry about it. I’m as prepared as I can be with all things considering.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, that, had Eden been a lesser person, would have sent her running for the hills. “What does that mean?” she demanded in a deadly hiss as she crossed her arms over her chest and put her weight on one leg.

Eden’s heart thudded in her chest, and she felt like she would die with the sudden rush—fire heat flare _light_—of affection she felt for her sister in everything but blood.

She smiled softly at her before she spoke. “I have absolutely no clue what the challenge is going to be. All I was told was that it was going to ‘test my daring’. In my research—” Tom’s research “—I have come to the conclusion that it might have something to do with magical creatures, so, I’ve been studying and practicing spells that will work against most creatures.”

“Wait—so you _have_ been practicing?” Draco demanded, his gray eyes alight with a crippling inferno.

“Of course I have,” she stated in a slightly shocked, and a more than slightly ‘duh’ tone. “Do you think I’m _stupid_?”

“_When_ do you practice?”

“All you do is school work and sleep!”

“I get up at five every morning, when do you_ think_ I do things for the Tournament?”

Understanding crossed their faces. So _that_ was why she had suddenly started to go to sleep so early.

“Wait—” Vincent cut in, “—so you only practice in the mornings?”

“Pretty much. Despite being a Champion, I still want to do well in school. I may be dismissed from our final exams, but, I’m not in my final year. I need to stay caught up. That’s why I focus on school during the day and evenings, and the Tournament in the mornings.” And nights. Most definitely couldn’t forget the nights.

Merlin, Tom would _kill_ her if she forgot about their nights. Days?

Time travel was confusing.

After she continued to explain that she practiced in the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor, she was able to _finally_ convince them that she was fine, would remain to be fine, and that they could go back to sleep for a short while longer.

_Room of Requirement_

Once that monumental task was done—who knew _Snakey-Snape_ could be so_ stubborn_—she quickly left to go practice on her own. She knew that even though she had practiced with Tom, his Demonic Puppets, and his Obstacle Course from Hell a mere hour and a half prior, she was still _extraordinarily_ panicked about the Task, despite what he had told her just before she woke up.

She knew herself. She knew that she would _panic_ and as a result of that, _forget_.

She _knew_ her chance of survival against _whatever_ creature they deemed _acceptable_ to go up against _children_ wouldn’t be high due to that innate character flaw.

_Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

She practiced hard until a half hour before lunch—she had permission to miss classes on the days of the Tasks—after which she went and got changed into the clothes that she would hopefully be wearing during the actual performing of the Task and covered them with a too long robe.

After that was done, she loitered around her room, wrote in her diary, and then made her way up to the great hall after she had removed all of her jewelry—most of which had some sort of protection aspect—and her pearl bag—how parting is such a sweet sorrow (or something like that)—which she tucked under the pillow after she carefully placed her jewelry in it.

_Great Hall_

Her legs gave out on her as she sat in the middle of the long table, across from Selwyn and the Queen whose name she still didn’t know.

Her friends—Pansy and Draco—immediately started to pile food high on her plate. All of it was high in nutrition and magical benefits, and most tasted absolutely _bland_. Her hands shook violently as Draco shoved food into her mouth—almost literally…he was nice about it…kind of—because she couldn’t hold anything long enough to be able to feed herself.

She missed the shared glance between godfather and godson.

_Forbidden Forest_

“I can’t do this,” she breathed as they trekked across the uneven terrain to get to the Task’s location. The reality of what she was about to do had suddenly kicked in, and to say she was panicked would be a _vast_ understatement. “I’m going to die. I need to go back and write a will, I—” She turned around to head back to the castle as she continued to babble before her words and frantic motions were stopped suddenly when Draco slapped her hard across the face. She closed her stinging eyes and took a deep breath as a natural tear fell out of one. “Thank you,” she breathed, “I needed that.”

Her magic caressed her face, and she knew no bruise would show. The guilty expression left his face, and the Slytherin’s surrounding the two—even their close friends—relaxed and put away their wands.

It was no secret that she was abused—most Slytherin’s were, unfortunately (_some_ physically, _most_ mentally)—and for some reason, everyone, ever since her first year, had been _insanely_ over protective—even more so since her name was drawn.

“You’re welcome. Now, you’re going to breathe,” He placed his hands on her shoulders, “and you are going to do your best, do you understand, Eden?”

She lifted her chin and sniffed. “I’m insulted that you think I wouldn’t do my best,” she huffed only semi-playfully. The effect, however, was ruined by the way her voice shook and her lips trembled. “My pride could never take it if I did that. I’d rather be Kissed by a Dementor than not give it my all in this endeavor.”

The large group of Slytherin’s—the _entire_ House—continued on their way to the Arena in a tight knit group, talking quietly amongst themselves, none of them able to force a cheer that no one felt.

Once at the Arena, she made her way to the tent where she was handed a bundle of fabric by Snakey-Snape and shoved behind a thin curtain to change. She unfolded the fabric and nearly cried when she saw the small bottle of Calming Draught—just enough to get her to stop shaking uncontrollably (and probably then some—but not much more).

She quickly downed the potion and removed her outer robe before she turned her attention to the clothing that had been handed to her. She held up the stiff robes with steady hands and wrinkled her small nose at them.

These would not do, _at all_.

She stuck her head out of the curtain and spoke to the dour potions professor who stood outside of her little cubical like a knight in bat’s clothing. “Do I really have to wear these?”

He turned and looked down at her with a lifted brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s like a baggy…muggle…tracksuit—is that the word? I don’t know. But, while I’m sure these will allow flexibility, I’m also pretty sure it’s not good for the spells that I plan on casting,” she explained as she fingered the small—but still far too large—metal fastenings and button holes.

“And what spells do you anticipate needing?” She looked around at the other Champions who all seemed to be lost in their own worlds of fear before she yanked him behind the curtain and quickly and silently lifted a multitude of privacy wards around them.

“In my studies,” she started hesitantly, knowing that what she was about to say could very well change the opinion the man in front of her held for her into something negative. “I realized that while magical creatures are typically impervious to magic…they aren’t necessarily immune to…the uh…the weather.” Her eyes trailed down from his all-seeing gaze and focused on the small black buttons at the neck of his robes.

Unlike normal buttons instead of four holes, they had seven, and they were sewn with a black thread that glowed with magic and—

Her gaze was drawn back up as he gasped in realization and she knew she didn’t have to explain further—but really those buttons were a piece of work; they must have multitudes of protection—

“You _are_ aware of how dangerous those spells are, correct? Both politically _and_ magically?”

He grabbed her face with both hands before she could move onto another object to hyper-focus on—he knew her too well. She nodded, grateful for the action of her confidante. “Yes. That’s why I’m wearing what I am. It won’t hinder me, kill me, or help me with any of the restrictions placed on the Champions.”

He looked at the tight yoga pants and equally tight open-back black halter tank top—Narcissa had introduced the brand to her when she started doing yoga with her a couple years ago, and Eden had decided to purchase a new pair for the Task.

Both articles of clothing were black and made of a soft, moisture absorbing—and evaporating—magical cotton, and the tank top showed her shoulders, but also covered the entirety of her chest until the hollow of her throat. She wore black socks made of the same cotton that the rest of her clothes were and were charmed to look like shoes—she most definitely did _not_ want to risk losing House points on the day that might very well be her death day.

Snakey-Snape cast a spell at the clothes, and a light appeared on the tip of his wand, and nodded his head. With a few more flicks of his wand, the clothes had lightened to a dark green and had silver stripes on the sides while the charm on the socks had been dropped. They were now a gorgeous Slytherin green and had dark green and bright silver stripes that shimmered slightly at the toe and heel.

“Be_ wise_, Eden. I know you. You have fifteen plans for one simple scenario. If you can’t cast it _safely_ don’t risk casting it at all. Please.”

Eden smiled at him despite the unease—fear anxiety turmoil _help_—oozing in her stomach. Was the potion wearing off? It couldn’t be. “I promise, Snakey-Snape.”

He groaned and turned his eyes to the heavens—most likely muttering a prayer to the Olde gods. She was right when she assumed—a dangerous past-time—that the use of the name would prevent him from Sealing the promise. He opened the curtain with an agitated flick and the two stepped out and ignored the looks the other Champions sent their way when they saw her clothing.

“I curse the day you figured out that nickname.”

Sometime in 1941.

“What about the day I started calling you it to your face?”

Summer of 1993.

He gave her a dry look out the corner of his eyes as a smirk—barely there—pulled at his lips. “By that point it was far too late to have regrets.”

Eden laughed joyfully, even as her hands began to shake once more, and started to joke around with him—much to the other Champion’s shock (they were all sick to their stomachs with fright)—until Rita Skeeter and her photographer swept into the tent with an obnoxious flourish.

As much as she was grateful to the woman for calling Dumbles out on his poor actions on Halloween, she still disliked the reporter, and the feeling was more than mutual.

Snakey-Snape stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder as Rita poked and prodded the four Champions in their pre-Task group interview—something that had been _joyfully_ approved by Dumbles last minute (something that made the ire within her burn just a little bit brighter).

He defended her whenever the blonde said something particularly scathing to her, and subtly insulted the two foreign Champions when they did the same—Cedric, she was confused (and pleased) to note did the same as the professor.

The potion’s Master stood behind her as the challenge was explained—which, admittedly, she should have paid just a _titch_ more attention to—and he stood behind her as the anger at the indignity—injustice outrage irritation _unfairness_—of the situation grew to new heights at the probing of the horrid woman.

He stood behind her, ever supportive, as she finally let her Dark, angry—furious bitter resentful _hateful_—magic explode out from her in subtle waves.

“Alright, ladies first. You’ll reach in, grab one, and keep your hand closed until everyone has done so.”

The two girls looked at each other, and when Fleur gestured to her, she shook her head emphatically, widened her eyes, and made her cheeks go pink with a nifty little spell. “I could _never_ be so disrespectful of someone of _your_ status.”

She smirked inwardly at the look on the blondes face, and the congratulating squeeze on her shoulder, and the knowing look sent by a schoolmate as she removed the blushing spell. Eden watched as the blonde reached in and pulled out an unknown object.

The bag was held out to her, and she took a deep breath before she reached in. She grabbed one of the wriggling objects that would be her doom, and pulled it out with her hand clutched loosely around it. She yelped softly when she felt a shock run up her arms and fought to keep her hand closed around the wriggling creature without squishing it.

She was so busy trying to keep her hand closed and her yelps quiet, that it was only when Snakey-Snape nudged her and told her to open her hand that she realized everyone had their eyes fixed on her. A true blush coated her cheeks and she opened her hand. Gasps came from all around the small space as they stared at the miniature dragon in her hand.

_Hey, Tom? _

_Yes, dear?_

_Don’t you think that because the First Task is going to be something with a magical creature…that we should maybe practice with the dragon?_

_They’re not so foolish as to pit a bunch of children up against a dragon._

_Then…why did you make it?_

_To prove that I could do it._

_Well…what about Abyss?_

_You honestly think they’ll put _children_ up against a _hellhound_?_

_Right…so uh…dummies?_

_Dummies._

Her executioner was black with light blue squiggles all around it like a large, forked bolt of lightning with the wings a nearly translucent pale blue. It’s tail—holy _Merlin_—was twice as long as it’s already long body, and was tipped with two long, thin spikes at the end. Lightning danced between the spikes as the miniature roared and lightning shot out of its mouth. On its side was a charred number 4.

“The Lightning Wyvern.”

She was totally, utterly, without _question_, screwed.

“The number on the side of the dragon indicates who will be going first. You will be allowed to start at the sound of the canon when it is your turn.”

Eden numbly listened—does it count as listening if she can’t recall a single thing said?—to the rest of the man’s speech before he left and she moved to a different part of the tent and crouched down and wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head on her knees. Snakey-Snape crouched down next to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I’m going to die,” she whispered, her voice wet with unshed tears as she leaned into the familiar and comforting touch.

“No you’re not,” his voice cracked. “It is serendipitous that you have learned some of the only spells that work against the Wyvern.”

“But…it’s so sensitive to magic…and hates witches and wizards.” Tom had made her read up on all sorts of creatures, including dragons despite his insistence that they wouldn’t choose dragons. “It _especially_ hates Dark type witches and wizards.”

“You’re over-reacting,” he admonished softly as he ran his hand along the seven long, Dutch braids her hair had been magicked into.

She looked at him with eyes that shined. “I’m really not.” A couple tears finally slipped out of her eyes as her voice cracked. “I scanned my Core about two weeks ago to practice some spells. It’s a Pure Dark Core.”

His brows furrowed before he waved his wand and got the same result that Tom had—only it seemed that the sphere was slightly larger in shape (it was probably just her imagination). Pure, unadulterated, _rage_ filled his eyes as his magic snapped around the room for a brief moment. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘_oh’_.”

She was unaware of how long they sat like that, with their magic’s occasionally lashing out, and her anxiety occasionally breaking through the Calming Draught. But eventually, she was called, and she haltingly moved to the large wooden door to await for the canon that would seal her fate and death.

She gave Snakey-Snape a quick hug and bit her tongue to keep herself from launching herself at him as he was forced to walk away. A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she flinched before she turned.

“Stay strong, lass,” Crazy Face encouraged before he too left.

She blinked multiple times as she turned back to the door, and she began to scan the grain of the door, and tried to find shapes in the wood. That one kind of looked like a bunny…oh look, a _dragon_—

The canon sounded, and the heavy doors creaked open, and she took a deep breath to clear her mind before she hesitantly stepped into her grave.

She stood just inside the doors and stared at the rocky terrain and had to fight the terror that ate at her and briefly thought about Tom and whatever he’d say to her whenever she was scared and in vast amounts of pain.

_Just breathe, little one. Breathe, and soon it will all be fine once more. Breathe…._

She followed his advice before she stepped fully into the Arena and quickly blocked out the wordless cheers that greeted her ears. She crept up to the rocks, and crouched behind it as she looked for the egg, and carefully made a plan that she knew wouldn’t last long, but it made her feel better to have _something_.

She moved carefully, quietly, and lithely—_thank you for your sadism, Tom_—along the mountainous terrain before she crouched behind a rock that stood directly in front of the beast.

_The Lightning Wyvern is very sensitive to Magic, and thus is always aware of a witch or wizard when they are near. It is not quite known why, but due to their sensitivity, Magic users like witches or wizards, especially Dark and Pure types, cause the species great pain by being in the same vicinity._

She could assume by the sheer fact that the rock she hid behind hadn’t yet been destroyed, and that she was _alive_, that the dragon was overwhelmed with all of the people in attendance. She felt her eyes start to lift to the spectators, and pinched herself to prevent her from doing so.

She leaned against the rock for a moment longer, allowed herself to be overwhelmed for just a second. She took another deep breath and slowly released it.

She tightened her grip on her wand before she faced the rock and slowly lifted herself and stared at the large beast in front of her. She lifted a shaking hand—come _on_ Calming Draught, _please_ don’t fail now—and whispered a spell as she waved it in a complex motion and a Dark—was it illegal in this time? (she couldn’t remember)—cutting hex towards the equally overwhelmed beast curled around the eggs.

When a small line appeared in the thick, dark scales, she smiled and then jumped to the side with a shriek of terror as a blinding bolt of lightning forked towards her. Once she was out of range of the continuous bolt of white, she sent a few more of the cutting hexes mixed with the boomerang charm to distract it so she’d have enough time—_hopefully_ (dear Mother Magic, let her have _time_)—to cast the _only_ spell that had the _potential_ to save her life.

She quickly fell into the proper position, and started the casting of the spell. As she chanted, she held her left hand next to her face, and with her right hand, she spun her holly wand in a gradually growing spiral, a ball of blue-white energy channeling in the center of the spiral. She pulled her arm back, stabbed it into the center of the ball, and her wand connected with the energy like it had so many times before.

She pulled her arm back once more, and touched the tip of her wand to the palm of her left hand, and snapped her arm out towards the dragon. White light shot out from seemingly every single pore as the energy ball pulled harshly on her Core and the troposphere before it exploded.

Thunder cracked in the Arena and she had to duck to hide her eyes as the screech of the dragon—which sounded like a metallic thunderbolt—told her that her aim had hit its mark. After the spell ran its course, she stood once more and sent five different—stronger (_illegal_? probably)—cutting hexes at its now exposed soft belly before she made her way to the golden egg.

The beast stomped slightly away from the nest, and she saw her chance, abandoned her plans, and dove out of hiding and ran for the now unguarded nest.

Screams of terror from the audience she had long since blocked, sounded behind her, and as she turned, she was greeted with the dragon’s sharp tail just as it impaled her stomach. She felt every inch of each spike as it cut through organs, skin, and shattered fragile bones. Blood sprayed against the stone in front and behind her and against her face, and she _wanted_ _to_ **_die_**.

She gagged, and as she dry heaved through the pain, quickly cast a nonverbal spell that Tom had taught—demanded insisted asserted _forced_—her when she demanded that he teach her the Lightning spell. The Immunity spell she cast was very illegal in both times, and she could only hope that the circumstances would allow her to go unpunished.

The spell draped over her, and almost immediately her mind and body went blissfully_ numb_ as the lines on the dragon’s body glowed and lightning filled her body and flowed through it as if it were her own blood. The Immunity spell immediately reacted, and as soon as the lightning reached her Core—just before it reached her heart—it was sent out of her body and into the sky. Clouds—huh, _that_ was new—rapidly appeared around the bright bolt and—_Merlin_ was it painful, she couldn’t _think _(please, Mother).

The world around her started to ring and blur, and she knew that the Immunity spell wouldn’t last much longer against a Lightning Wyvern, unlike it did with a 17 year old wizard.

She gagged again, and lifted her blood covered wand and cast another very illegal curse—she threw as much of her magic into it as she could and still be able to finish the challenge—and was able to sever the tail just enough that the lightning stopped seconds before the Immunity spell failed.

She took a deep, sobbing breath and stepped away from the spikes—white hot pain _help_—and made her way to the egg as fast as she could. She stumbled multiple times, and blood ran down her legs, onto her sock covered feet and bloody footprints were left behind her. She tripped over a small rock and fell to the ground just as the tail swung over her head, right where she had been. The dragon shot lightning into the air and stomped towards her.

She clawed her way up to her hands and knees, and then to her feet. The Arena was deathly silent—she suspected that her ears had been damaged at some point. Despite the fact that she couldn’t hear, she swore she could make out the quiet sounds of drops of liquid falling into a large pool of liquid and echoed as she reached the small—comparatively—pile of rocks that had the nest on top and began to climb.

Mind numb, ears dead, nerves frayed, she made it to the large nest and carefully rolled inside before she stood and quickly moved to the egg. Just as she picked it up—and felt Magic tighten in her Core, signaling she was _done_—something hard slammed into her back, and she was sent flying towards the barrier wall on the other side of the Arena.

She could do nothing as the egg slipped out of her hands along with her wand—no, _come back_—and she was left utterly defenseless with the dragon who hated those of her kind. She faintly registered glowing spells behind her as the wall approached.

The sharp impact against the smooth stone was dulled as her eyes closed and she appeared in Tom’s room. It was dark, and in her suddenly hazy mind, it registered as night.

How strange.

Wasn’t it just day?

Her legs lost all feeling and she fell to the ground with a heavy thud. “Eden? Circe, what happened to you?” he demanded as he ran forward and crouched next to her.

Apparently her hearing _wasn’t_ damaged.

She looked up at her best friend and smiled softly as peace settled in her heart. “Tom…” she whispered hoarsely. The peace quickly made way for pain as she coughed, and when she opened her eyes, she saw faint specs of blood splattered against his face. Her eyes fluttered slightly and her heart slowed.

Oh.

She coughed again, and more blood splattered against his face and a pleasant numbness climbed up from her legs and to her mid back. “I think I’m dying, Tom.” Tears leaked out of her eyes as fear slowly evicted pain.

She didn’t want to die.

His look of pure horror was the last thing she saw before her eyes closed and everything faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it.
> 
> As I said in a couple comments, this scene was what inspired In My Dreams to happen, and so that's why I rewrote it so many times, I just wasn't happy with it, and it wasn't until I had my lovely mother read it and had five hour plus conversations with my dad that I finally was able to get it to this wonderful spot.
> 
> Also, as you have probably noticed, it is no longer 52 chapters, and that is because I've ended up splitting stuff, and I no longer know how many chapters this will be.
> 
> I read all of your comments, and, if I don't respond, it's because I don't know how to respond without spoilers. Or, if I respond and it seems stilted, it's because I'm trying to not give away spoilers.


	13. 12 Of Blood and Aether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Task from a different perspective, and the immediate aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably already know this, but Aether is pronounced EE-thur. 
> 
> You can blame my dad for that clarification.

_Thursday, November 24, 1994_

_ Forbidden Forest_

A horrible, acute sense of terror had filled Severus Snape since he had scanned Eden Potter’s Core nearly an hour prior. Had she been going up against _any_ of the other dragons, he felt that the horror wouldn’t be so visceral.

Like the other Mentor’s, when it was her turn, he had gone up to the stands to watch as she had made her way to the Arena entrance. He sat next to the Malfoy’s, who sat next to Sirius and Mariea Black, and Remus Lupin, and had eagerly accepted his godson’s trembling hand when she finally appeared.

Merlin, had she always been that _small_? Had she _always_ looked so frail?

Yes…he supposed she did.

Her personality had more than made up for it though. It often made those around her forget how under developed she was—and always would be—due to her family’s treatment of her.

She had gained the respect and fierce care of her Housemates. She also had gained the respect of most of Hufflepuff—those who weren’t terrified by green and silver—and a large amount of Ravenclaw—those who weren’t sickeningly jealous of her mind—before the whole Tournament debacle had begun nearly a month ago.

Circe.

Why did her personality have to be so overwhelming and deceiving?

His eyes were glued to her small form as she moved about the Arena as if she had been climbing her entire life—he knew she hadn't. They stayed on her as she waved her wand and sent a Dark spell that he had never seen before at the dragon and his breath left him when the spell not only made contact with the highly agile beast, but actually managed to _injure_ it. She shot another series of spells that he had never seen around the dragon, completely missing it, and even sent one straight into the sky.

To say that he was confused would be an understatement.

Eden had some of the best aim in her year and was second only to Granger, and only marginally more successful than her disgusting twin who was tied with his godson.

When the girl fell into an abnormal position—her legs spread considerably, knees bent, and back ramrod straight with her hand by her face—he knew _immediately_ that the missed spells were mere distractions—this was further affirmed when the spells curved back and hit the dragon—so she could cast a Weather spell.

Probably _the_ Weather spell if he knew her well enough—her ambition and pride were dangerous things alone, but when they were mixed together…the world needed to _quake_ at the lengths she would go to achieve her goals.

Weather Magic was an obscure and rare enough branch of Neutral type Magic that it wasn’t legal, but it also wasn’t illegal. It was difficult for even the strongest of wizards to cast _any_ of the spells—even the ones to summon _Cirrus_ clouds—in the branch of Magic.

The _one_ Weather spell that actually _was_ illegal—the circumstances of the use of it determined the penalty, be it a slap on the wrist or a stint in Azkaban—appeared to be the one she was casting. Coincidently, it was also the hardest to cast, and the backlash of the complex spell often killed the castor in the attempt to do so.

“No, you foolish girl,” he hissed as he squeezed Draco’s hand just a little bit more—neither male noticed the pain of the other’s grip.

When the lightning shot across the Arena and towards the dragon with a painful rumble of thunder that shook the ground, and a blinding white light that made his eyes water and burn—he _refused_ to look away for even a second—her power was proven when she remained standing after the spell had run its course—which was an agonizing fifteen seconds.

Her power was especially proven with the ease in which she cast the spell, and the fact that she didn’t even appear to be even _slightly_ Drained from it.

Was there a chance that she could be…?

No. He couldn’t think like that. Albus couldn’t—_wouldn’t_—have made a mistake about something so very important.

He relaxed slightly as he believed she had everything under control with the way the dragon was currently stunned, bleeding, and blinking its large oval eyes as if it were shocked that it had just been hit with _lightning_ from a _human_. He relaxed his grip on Draco for just a moment and breathed a sigh of relief as she shot five more spells at it, injured it once more, and continued on and hid behind rocks as she made her way to her final destination.

He shared a relieved glance and nudge with Lucius. A movement out of the corner of his eyes as he did this, had him standing on his feet and bellowing her name as Sirius and Lucius held their wives back from jumping down into the Arena. He soon found himself doing the same thing with his godson as Eden turned, and his world seemed to stop as the deadly tip of the tail embedded itself into her stomach.

Almost in slow motion, he watched with abject horror as the lines on the dragon almost immediately started to glow white hot, and then the pain—oh, the _pain_, Merlin have _mercy_—on her face as the lightning left the top of her head into the quickly darkening sky.

It had to end.

_Now_.

He handed his godson over to Diana Nuvoue who was busy along with the other seventh years trying to keep the fourth years from jumping into the Arena. As he moved along, he noticed that the other older Slytherin’s occupied themselves with the younger Slytherin’s—either preventing them from skydiving or comforting them (he had a feeling he would be erasing a lot of memories for his students that night—he made a mental note to brew _a lot_ of Dreamless Sleep).

He—along with the other Mentors, Heads, her godparents (and the Malfoy’s)—made his way to the entrance of the Arena. He was about to cross over, and therefore negate the challenge—as her Mentor, only _he_ could cross over while the Task was activated—when the deafening thunder suddenly ended with a dark green spell that he _recognized_.

It had once been the inspiration for one of his own creations while he himself was a student and toiling under the oppression of the other students and his home life.

Eden somehow made her way to the egg, and his world stopped once more when she was sent flying towards the barrier wall 200 feet away from the nest _after_ the dragon tamers had gone in to subdue the beast.

After she had the egg.

_After _she had completed the _damned_ challenge.

Careless of the seething dragon now surrounded by 15 tamers, he ran into the Arena and practically flew to her crumbled body—he was vaguely aware that others were following behind him.

He knelt down beside her and pulled his wand and was stopped momentarily by Albus—maybe he would decorate his office with his insides…yes, that sounded nice. “Severus, allow the healers to do it. I doubt there is much you can do for her anyway.”

Severus snarled at the man and barely restrained from killing the man as he shook the gnarled hand off of his shoulder and began to cast minor diagnostic spells while he spoke—he didn’t really need to, as he already had a clear point of interest. “None of the healers you hired have a Dark or Gray type Core. They won’t be able to heal her effectively enough for her to live. If you’ve hired a Neutral type Core healer, then they might have a slightly higher chance of being useful.”

“My dear boy,” the old man started shocked, a little too loud for comfort, “she doesn’t need a Dark type or a Gray type healer. She was born a Light Core.”

Her blood family stood behind the headmaster, and didn’t look particularly worried—actually…the brat looked worried. It was obvious, however, that her parents were only there for the press.

Bastards.

Sirius, Mariea, and Remus, however…_they_ were currently being held back by other staff members from all three schools as they screamed and shouted, and Narcissa and Lucius held onto each other as tears streamed from their cracked Masks.

“You’re wrong, Albus. She now has a Pure Dark Core.” Rage, undiluted, and unholy filled him as he _knew_—he relished in the horrified gasps of her blood family and he immediately fell back onto his Occlumency to be able to focus. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to heal her before she dies.” He turned to Eden and touched his wand to one of the gaping holes in her torso. “_Vulnera sanentur_.” The gaping wounds slowly—too slowly—began to heal and he continued to mutter the spell in a ritualistic fashion.

In the background he vaguely registered someone taking her frantic godparents away along with the Malfoy’s.

“Let me help,” Poppy begged as she came over to him, her face wet with tears. “I can see what injuries she has, and I can cast only some Neutral spells, but, they might help.” He nodded his head and never ceased his mutterings, and the two adults worked in semi-silence before she spoke again. “She has extreme internal bleeding, a severed Thoracic Spinal cord, and multiple shattered bones in her legs, hips, and torso, and not to mention the holes left from the tail. Her magic seems to be attempting to heal the worst of the injuries—mainly her spine and the holes—but isn’t doing much as it’s trying to stabilize two very extreme injuries,” her voice caught when she continued to speak in the silence of the Arena, “she won’t make it, Severus.”

That was completely unacceptable.

“She will with Blood Magic.”

Albus spoke loudly and startled those around them. “What do you mean, Severus? That’s far too Dark and deadly! Not to mention illegal!”

He rolled his eyes at the willful ignorance of the man. “There is a _legal_ Dark healing spell classified as Blood Magic known as _Medela Aer_. It heals everything completely; there is no lingering pain, no scars, and no physical trauma. Like with all Dark type healing spells, it takes an _extreme_ amount of magic. Only those with a Dark, Pure Dark, or a Dark Gray Core are able to cast it, and it can _only_ be used on those with a Dark type Core or they react adversely to it and typically die due to the injuries worsening.”

Poppy spoke before the old coot could—bless her soul. “Do you know how to cast this _Medela Aer_?” The two adults were busy trying to heal what they could, but, as typical with healing someone with the opposite spells to their Core type—especially a Pure Core type—she seemed almost immune to the attempts made by the matron.

“Yes. I can’t heal everything though. It would kill me.” While he would willingly die for her, so she could live, he didn’t have any doubts that she would learn Necromancy just to bring him back to life and kill him again. Multiple times, most likely.

“Would you be able to heal her partially now and then again later?” One of the healers from St. Mungo’s asked from next to him.

Severus hadn’t even noticed him.

(a quick scan revealed he had a Neutral Light Gray Core—he only did it as he had started healing her)

“If it would allow her to live long enough to try, it’s worth a shot.”

In the distance, he heard the desperate cries of Mariea Black and Narcissa Malfoy as they plead with the Olde gods to let their daughter live.

A soft, yet frantic, chanting from the stands had him glancing over his shoulder and biting his lip as he saw almost every single Slytherin performing an Ancient Prayer Ceremony as well as they could, begging Mother Magic to let Eden live. He met the bloodshot eyes of his godson, nodded, and turned back to his student.

He took a deep breath and began to chant, and allowed three fourths of his Core to fill the fine red mist that gathered in front of him. He directed it to gather in and around the large holes in her torn up torso. Once the haze had settled in, he altered the words he spoke, and all watched—student, teacher, and guests (and the Praying Slytherin’s)—as the mist flashed a bright red. Her torso slowly reknit together until it had two deep gouges instead of gaping holes.

“It wasn’t enough,” he whispered as his head pounded and he fell to side as exhaustion quickly grabbed hold of him.

The last thing he saw before he fell asleep due to Drainage, was her body fully incased in the same blinding red light he had cast only moments before, only brighter and more painful as those around her were tossed back and away, and her screams echoed for all to hear as the light turned purple.

* * *

_Friday, November 24, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

The first thing that Tom had thought after he saw Eden covered in, and coughing up blood, was _not her. Anyone else, but not **her**._

The only thing that he thought after she announced that she thought she was dying, was to find the person who forced her into the Tournament, and slowly skin him alive, and then heal him, and then repeat the process for as long as the poor bastard managed to live.

Merely a second after her eyes closed, he summoned his wand and began to cast _Medela Aer Grandis_. It was similar to _Medela Aer_, only this one, instead of using only Blood Magic, used Dark Magic, Blood Magic, and Aether Magic.

The spell, rather than using the finite magic of the castor, drew from the power of the Aether, which was all around the universe in a truly infinite amount. Only extremely powerful witches and wizards can sense it, and only the most powerful of _those_ had the ability to harness it.

(it was theorized by early witches and wizards that the Aether had created the universe, and continued to create more and more every second of every day)

He began by waving his wand in complicated motions, and started to chant in the Tongue of the Ancients—he had never been more thankful that a book was read to him like a bloody _Howler_. When dark blue mist poured out of his bone white wand, he felt the achingly familiar pull on his magic, but didn’t feel the typical Drainage.

When the blue haze had surrounded all of her injuries—most from her waist down (what the _bloody_ _hell_ happened?)—he started to chant in the Tongue of the Aspects—again, grateful for the self-reading book. When the haze turned purple and sunk into her injuries, he started to chant in Olde Latin—a language dead even to wizarding-kind (and required another self-reading book to learn). The mist turned a dark red before it began to glow a dull red.

(his frantic thoughts didn’t even register the bright red light that came with the use of _Medela Aer_)

A dark blue fog, and a purple haze came from seemingly nowhere and wrapped around her body and lifted her up, and held her in the air seven feet above the ground—exactly in the middle of the room, as seven feet were above her head as well. He chanted the last few lines of the spell—this time in Latin (and the last couple lines of _Medela Aer_)—and was promptly thrown back into the wall as a blinding red light encircled her body and shifted to purple; all of the objects in his room were destroyed, except for his bed.

Her horrible screams echoed around the room, and shattered his heart.

Once the light in the room faded, Eden still hovered in the same place in the air, the red, purple, and blue clouds held her protectively. She was placed gently—almost lovingly—on his bed.

At least that was explained.

The nebula turned to him and took a vaguely human shape. “It has been quite some time since my power, my Aether, has been used for as pure a purpose as this, my child, Tom Marvolo Riddle. In reward, I will offer you some advice, my son. Care for Eden, and love her, for you do not have much time with her as you are now.”

The humanoid bowed to him before it faded away, and took the light and oppressive—yet achingly beautiful—magic of the Aether away with it.

The objects in his room began to repair themselves, and his room quickly went back to how it was before he—_apparently_ (the books hadn’t said a _damn thing_ about this)—summoned _the_ Aether.

Tom sat in shocked silence for a moment before he stumbled to his feet and ran to his bed—to his Eden. He hovered over her, and was pleased to see that not a single scar was on the skin that he could see, not even from when her disgusting parents abused her. He mended the rips in her clothes before he wrapped his body around her to tell himself that she was here, and _breathing_.

She took a deep breath and shook her head slightly. “Tom?” she murmured. “What happened?”

He laughed and pressed a shaking kiss to her forehead. “You’re alright,” he breathed.

“What happened?” she demanded once more. Her voice was clear along with her eyes, which showed frustration at the lack of answers.

At least he was positive that there was no brain damage.

(_How unfortunate_, a snarky part of his brain that was still _somehow_ functioning in the aftermath whispered.)

“I healed you,” he eventually answered.

She narrowed her eyes and scanned his face. “What did you use?”

“What do you mean?”

“Most spells you use to heal me have you at least a _little_ exhausted, or leave some kind of trace. You look perfectly fine. Expect…except you’re crying. Why are you crying, Tom?”

He was crying?

Dammit.

“I thought I was going to lose you, Eden.” Double dammit. His voice quivered (his mind shuddered in disgust). “I _can’t_ lose you, _ever_.” She wiped away his tears and he couldn’t help but lean into her soft touch.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tom.”

(_How unfortunate_. Joy. The part had grown. Was it possible to remove it without killing himself?)

He laid down beside her and held her tight in his arms as he tried to fight the anxiety that still ate at his heart.

(_Awe…we have a heart. It must be pretty crunchy, with it being frozen and all_. Just _die_ dammit!)

She was there, she was safe, and she was _alive_.

He didn’t know how long he laid there in her arms as he tried to force himself to stay awake, but soon—due to the delicious fingers that ran through his hair—he fell asleep.

The worry that had gnawed at him since the last time he had seen her, and the pure panic he had just experienced faded away, along with wizened words spoken by Father Magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this WAS supposed to be part of the last chapter. For the first four rewrites it was, but I was never really happy with it. The fifth rewrite gave me a place to cut it that I was happy with, as in the previous plans there was two. There are still two. I was nice. Also, it helps that I like my chapters to be 3,000+ words long, so that's why you got all of this now. This is one of the few things that I have ever written, that has gotten me to near tears--honestly, I think if I hadn't written it at three in the morning, I think I would have actually cried.
> 
> Update on my health, I will be having surgery on November 6, which is a Wednesday, so, I SHOULD be able to post on the 9, but, I absolutely refuse to make promises about that. Sorry.
> 
> Anyways, I really hope you guys liked this, as with the last chapter it's something I'm actually really proud of--which is weird because I'm almost never proud of something I've written.


	14. 13 Territory Unknown

_Friday, November 24, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

Eden opened her eyes when his fingers brushed against her cheek later that morning, about six hours after he had fallen asleep.

“You’re still here,” he whispered, his voice, face, and eyes filled with awe.

She nodded her head. “I’m not tired. I haven’t been tired since you healed me.”

“Were you tired before I healed you?

She thought for a moment and sorted through her more than slightly jumbled memories. “I’m not sure. I just remember darkness and a voice…. I couldn’t understand what they were saying though, I remember that much. It was also comforting, somehow…somehow it almost felt like coming home after a long, hard day.”

“What _happened_, Eden? What _did that_ to you?” She looked down from his icy blue eyes and ran her fingers along the collar of his shirt. “Eden?”

“It was a Lightning Wyvern.”

His grip tightened until she thought she’d snap in half. “What?”

And so she told him exactly what happened, from waking up, preparing—and the panic attack that came with that—and the actual fighting of the dragon. “I don’t really remember much of what happened after it decided to shoot me up with lightning, but, I do remember something hitting my back, and then hitting something hard, and then nothing.”

He frowned as he paused for a moment and thought. “If you weren’t a natural Occlumens I would just peak in and see what happened, even the parts you don’t remember clearly. Your consciousness is just trying to protect you from a traumatic event, similar to what happened in your first year. I’m sure that if we had a pensieve I could pull it out—both memories—and we can see what happened.”

“I don’t really care about what happened in first year to be honest,” she said with a shrug after a moment. As far as she could tell, there was no lasting effect from it, so, she _really_ didn’t want to go drag up whatever traumatic event her mind blocked for her. “I do, however, want to know what happened during the Tournament and what I did wrong. If I had my bag on me, I could order one.”

“How?”

“Cissica and the Albino Peacock give me a monthly allowance of sickening proportions. And, I just end up shoving the pouches with the money into my bag. I move them into my Trunk every couple of months….” She trailed off as she muttered to herself, unaware of the fond smile that was sent at her.

“Might I ask how much?”

“I’m not entirely sure. They refuse to tell me and have charmed the bags to make it impossible to tell how much is in there without pulling it all out and counting it by hand. Dragon says his is 10,000 galleons, but, he also says he’s sure mine is more than that.”

“Why would they give you more money than their own son?” he asked in the uniquely blunt way of his.

“I guess they’re trying to take care of me the only way that they know they can, and that’s by setting me up with enough money to be able to get away from my family as soon as I can. I’ve tried to give it back to them, but when they found out, they started charming the bags so only I could open them, and that the money would go into a vault they opened for me if I tried to send it back to Gringotts. I wasn’t pleased when I found out.”

Tom kissed her forehead. “You are far too nice, my darling.”

“I don’t know about that. Sometimes I think I protest because I feel like that’s the right thing to do, and other times it’s really because I feel guilty. I mean, they don’t _have_ to take care of me. And I know they aren’t being hurt by helping me this way, I just…. I don’t want to be in their debt, you know?”

“You, Miss Eden, are the most Hufflepuff Slytherin I have ever met.”

She scrunched her nose at him and stuck her tongue out. “Don’t call me that,” she whined.

He laughed and pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead. “How are you feeling, darling?”

She desperately fought the butterflies that fluttered around her stomach in sickening—nauseating trembling quivering _fluttering—_gales. “I feel good. I mean, my legs are slightly numb, but, other than that, I feel great. A little weak, but great.”

He sat up and ran diagnostic spells on her body. “When you arrived, most of your lower body was extremely injured. I wouldn’t be surprised if something important had broken and is taking longer to heal than everything else.” He started to poke and prod at her uncovered legs. “Can you feel this?”

“Yeah, it’s dull, like you’re poking me through a large pile of thick blankets, but, I can still feel it.”

He climbed out of the bed and lifted her up and held her close to his chest. “Let’s see if you can walk.” He placed her feet gently on the ground and held her hips and kept most of her weight off of her feet before he slowly lowered her down, ready to catch her if her legs gave out. “I’m going to take a step back, and you’re going to walk with me.”

“Okie.” He slowly took a step back, and she copied him. She could move her legs just fine, but when she put all of her weight on one, she crumbled into him. “That feels weird!” she giggled against his chest.

“Weird how?”

“You know when you’ve been running for a long time, or exercising your legs a lot and they’re tired and feel like jelly? That’s what it feels like.” Tom nodded and lifted her into his arms before he carried her over to the couch. He sat down and pulled her into his lap in a Super Tom Bear Hug—although she felt this one was more for him than her. “You’re clingy. Are you alright?”

“I thought you were going to die in my arms, Eden. Of course I’m not alright. I couldn’t protect you, and…” he trailed off, his frustration and anger at himself clear in his tone.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of his clenched jaw. “You did save me, Tom. No one could have protected me better than you have. Had I not been trained by you, I’d be dead. Tom, I fell asleep here, and for the first time, I_ stayed_ here. I was probably a breath away from Death’s door, _and you saved me_.”

He buried his face in her neck and she reached up and ran her fingers through his soft hair. He slowly relaxed, and his breathing became less ragged. Eventually his arms were slung loosely around her waist, and his breath was even. “I never want to let you go again,” he murmured softly.

Eden flushed and tried to slow her erratically beating heart down by sheer will—it didn’t work. “I don’t want you to,” she admitted just as softly.

It wasn’t until after he finished breakfast that he spoke again. “I’ll get a pensieve from Abraxas, and then we’ll analyze the Task and see how you could have done better. Then, when you have full feeling back in your legs again, we’ll begin training. We don’t know how long you’ll be here, but we can’t afford to waste any time.”

Eden pressed a kiss against his skin. “Alright.”

* * *

_Sunday, November 26, 1944_

_ Compartment 1—Training Arena_

Eden and Tom were three quarters of the way done with the Obstacle Course from Hell on the Second Layer—level 2 (cry)—when she suddenly stopped, her head tilted to the right.

_How is she?_

_Still sleeping._

_Her injuries?_

_They’re perfectly healed, although we’ve yet to figure out what that bright red and purple light was. Her spine finished healing a few days ago, thanks to your Blood Magic._

_Why isn’t she awake? _

_I don’t know, Severus. I don’t know, and I pray to the Olde gods that someone does._

She _recognized_ the voices. What was going on? Why did Snakey-Snape sound so lost? She had _never_ heard his voice crack like that before.

“Eden! Move dammit!” She came back to her current present at Tom’s frightening bellow and scrambled forward as a blast of boiling flames scorched where she had just been standing. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?” Tom demanded from the platform five feet away that she was supposed to be on with him.

“I heard someone talking.”

“No one was talking, dear,” he gibed as he scowled at her.

“I know. It was people talking in _my_ time.”

He straightened, waved his hand, and the Obstacle Course from Hell shut down and the platforms they were on lowered back to the ground. “What do you mean?”

“Madam P and Snakey-Snape were talking about me.”

“What did they say?” he demanded as he walked over to her to check her over.

“They said I’m perfectly healed and that my spine finished healing a few days ago due to Snakey-Snape using Blood Magic, and they have no idea as to why I’m still asleep.”

He decided she was fine and looked into her eyes. “Anything else?”

“Apparently there was a red light at some point. Did you use _Medela Aer_?” At his uncomfortable and slightly confused look, she repeated the question, and his confusion seemed to fade.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “No. I—I used _Medela Aer Grandis_.”

“What’s the difference?”

“It uses three branches of magic instead of just one.”

“And they are?”

“Considered evil. Mostly.”

She pulled away enough to give him an unimpressed look. “I want to know what the three branches of Magic that the ritual uses, Tom. No beating around the bush, no cleaver or sweet talking your way out of it. What are they?”

“I trained you too well.”

“Answer the question. And, I’m not a pet.” She pulled away from him and crossed her arms in front of her chest and leveled him with her best glare—she would _forever_ ignore the fact that he called it her Teddy Bear Glare.

“You’re my—”

“Answer the _damn question_!” Her magic crackled around her and caused her hair to float slightly.

_What the…._

_What’s wrong?_

_Her magic is flaring up._

_Why?_

_I don’t know. I’ll run some tests now._

Eden ignored the voices.

“Dark Magic, Blood Magic, and…”

She lifted an unimpressed brow. “And?” It was almost like he knew his answer would get him into deep trouble.

“Aether Magic.”

Huh. Maybe not.

“What’s Aether Magic?”

“A very rare, very old, very…obscure branch of Magic. Some consider the Aether to be Father Magic, the companion to Mother Magic.”

Yep. He was in _so_ much trouble. “What was the Price?”

He looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She had never wanted to hit him more in her life—which was saying something. “You told me yourself,” she started in a deadly hiss so very close to Parseltongue, “that Olde Magick _always_ has a Price. What’s the Price of _Medela Aer Grandis_?”

He sighed and pulled her back to his chest. “I really need to stop teaching you,” he grumbled as he buried his face in hair which was in a bun on top of her head. “I honestly don’t know what the Price was. There was no Debt called, no permanent effect on my magic. Nothing.” His brows furrowed for a moment in confusion before the expression cleared with a soft shake of his head.

“Huh…”

The two stood silent for a while before they finished the Obstacle Course from Hell in silence. 

_Bathroom_

Tom stood under the hot water as it cascaded down his skin. His hands were pressed up against the shower wall, and water dripped from the tips of his hair, nose and eyelashes as he stared at the water as it swirled down the drain.

He didn’t know what to do.

He was pretty sure he knew what the Price of _Medela Aer Grandis_ was, and if that truly was it….

He didn’t know _what_ he’d do if that truly was the Price of the Olde Magik. 

_Head Dorms_

It wasn’t until after Tom had showered and had sat down to study, that she spoke again.

“Promise me you’ll never use it again.”

“What?”

“_Medela Aer Grandis_. Promise you won’t use it again.

“I can’t do that.”

“Tom, we can’t _risk _a Debt being placed on you, or a permanent effect on your magic. _Please_, Tom, Promise me.”

He opened his arms with a sigh and she immediately moved to sit in his lap. “Fine. I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Promise to never use _Medela Aer Grandis_ ever again. So I say it, so mote it be.” There was a heavy snap of Magic in the air as the Vow took hold.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I hope you know that this means more training,” he grumbled into her neck.

“I’d be disappointed if there wasn’t.” 

|<strike>}(){</strike>| 

It was later that night, as Tom dressed for bed while she read an obscure treatise on what was commonly referred to as the Dark Patronus, when she felt a sharp sting in her right arm. She yelped, slapped her arm, and threw the book across the bed. It fell off with a light thud as Tom tripped over the dressing screen he had conjured.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” he demanded as he rushed over half dressed.

“Something bit me,” she hissed as she rubbed her arm. She lifted to appendage to her face and scanned her inner elbow, and in the crease, right on top of a thin blue vein, was a small red dot. Tom gently pulled her arm away from her face and scanned it himself. He ran his thumb gently over the mark, and her heart pounded in her chest at the comfort the action brought.

He murmured a healing spell, and the blemish glowed a bright blue for a few moments before it faded away.

_What the…_

_What’s wrong?_ Eden’s head tilted to the left and her left eyebrow furrowed.

_Has something happened?_

“What is it?’

“Shushy!”

_Where I gave the injection_—Eden’s eyes widened—_just glowed and healed itself._

_What did you give her?_

_Wide-Eye Potion._

_Why?_

_She hasn’t woken up yet. I’ve been conferring with some colleagues at St. Mungo’s and we are all of the opinion that it might help wake her up. I’m also going to start giving her three nutritional potions and a hydrating potion this way too. She doesn’t seem to take well to taking the potions orally._ More pricks followed this statement, and Tom healed them as they appeared. _That is so strange...._ Madam P murmured.

_Do you think she can hear us?_

_I don’t know. It’s worth a try. I’ll give you three sometime alone with her._

“Eden, what’s going on?”

“People are talking again.”

_Hey pup,_ Uncle Sirius started with a thick voice,_ I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you, and how much I love and miss you. I don’t know if you can hear me, but, if you can, know that you’re missed and loved, and that we don’t care what Core type you have._

_When you wake up, I’ll take you shopping, okay, sweetie? Just…_please_ wake up, baby_, Aunt Mariea begged softly, her voice wet.

_I’ll get you all of the books you could ever want, cub, just…._ Uncle Remus trailed off with a choked sound.

_We’ll come visit you when we can. It’s hard to sneak in, but, we’ll do it every day until you wake up._

The voices stopped and she jumped when Tom wiped at her face. “What is it, love?”

“Moony, Padfoot, and Wings miss me. They came to visit. Apparently they’re sneaking into Hogwarts to see me. They also said that they accept me for my Core type. I don’t know how they found out though.”

Tom pulled her into his arms and ran his hand soothingly up and down her back. “You sustained a substantial amount of injuries. They probably scanned your Core to find a way to heal you faster. Not that you needed them,” he added on slyly. She rolled her eyes and pinched him, to which he responded in kind. “What about the dots?”

“They’re injecting potions into me directly.” She explained what they were and why they were doing it.

Tom pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled away from her. He quickly finished dressing for bed, and handed her the book she had been reading. He laid down on the bed next to her and wrestled her into laying down next to him. He wrapped her in his arms, and soon drifted off to sleep—similar to how he had done it the night before.

Really, couldn’t he have just _asked_ her? She was _more_ than willing to cuddle.

_Unlike its cousin, the _Patronus Charm_, the _Salvator Spell_ does not rely on a happy memory to summon a Spirit Guardian (more commonly known as a Patronus)._

_As most Dark type Witches and Wizards in our current times do not have sufficient happy memories, due to the circumstances surrounding them, and the way that they are treated by most of society, they often feel that they do not have happy enough memories, or are not ‘pure’ enough, when in fact that is not the case. But, because of this belief, they are destined to fail._

_In order to counteract this misconception, and to add protection for all, a group of Dark type Witches and Wizards gathered together to create a spell that they felt anyone could cast, no matter their Core type. Thanks to this group, headed by Jameson Salvator, the _Salvator Spell_ was created. _

_Similar to the _Patronus Charm_ the Spell requires a memory, only instead of the happiest of memories, a memory of great sadness or a life changing event will suffice._

Eden looked up from the faintly glowing pages of the book and pulled out Tom’s wand and fingered it slightly with her left hand—she could cast with her left hand, but she was better with her right (Tom insisted on making her ambidextrous with her casting just like him—it was slow going as they had been at it for four years). “A life altering or sad memory, huh? What about both?”

She allowed the too-often thought of memory of when her father first hit her to fill her mind, and moved the wand in the required movement as she whispered the spell so as to not wake Tom. “_Salvatorem Expectamus_.”

A bright white mist spilled out of the wand and slowly took the form of a phoenix. A hand wrapped around the wand and the spell was whispered behind her, and a small magpie joined her phoenix.

The two birds flew around the room in a beautiful dance to some ethereal music that only they could hear, and lulled Tom back to sleep, and Eden into a state of half-consciousness.

* * *

_Monday, November 27, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

_I miss you, Eden._

_School isn’t the same without you. Neither is the common room, or meal times, or even arguing with Pansy. _

_…_

_We—the Slytherin’s—have been doing Ancient Prayer Ceremonies to Mother Magic and Lady Brigid in the Ceremony Room that’s hidden deep in the dungeons, but…you’re not waking up._

_You’re not dying either._

_So, I guess we could kind of say that it’s working?_

_…_

_Uncle Severus has been acting strange. It’s hard to put in to words, but, if I had to try, I’d say it’s almost like he’s in some kind of catatonic state. He barely eats, barely teaches—we’ve just been reading in the textbook since he’s healed from the Strain since the Task. _

_He spends a lot of time next to you. _

_We all do, to be honest._

_…_

_Potty also seems to be in a strange state as well. I don’t understand him._

_He claims to hate you, and verbally abuses you, but somehow…. Somehow he misses you. Probably as much as I miss you. A few days ago, his mudblood Granger came up to us and asked us how you were doing. I don’t know if your brother sent her, but, she seemed genuinely worried. _

_…_

_Weasel is still as obnoxious as ever._

_…_

_Uhm…what else is going on…?_

_…_

_OH! Skeeter is writing some pretty amazing stuff against Professor Dumbledore. One day I’ll have to bring one of her articles and read it to you. She’s mainly writing about how he tried to prevent you from getting the care that you needed to be healed. _

_I’m sorry to say but…she leaked your Core type. _

_Surprisingly, though, it’s not getting any hate towards you like most people would get._

_In the same article that she released your Core type, she mentioned that you had been born a Light Core, and that you now have a Pure Dark Core. She did some pretty in depth research and even got some experts on the subject to comment. It was explained that the only way that a Core Change of that magnitude can come around is from traumatic experiences like severe child abuse, as the only time that a Core Change can happen is within the first 10 years of life—it apparently solidifies after you get your wand._

_…_

_I don’t know if mother and father will be able to adopt you because of the articles, but, I really hope that they can. You’re my sister in everything but blood. _

_But, I also think that Uncle Sirius will be the one to adopt you if you are freed from the monkey’s guardianship. I don’t care. As long as you’re away from them, happy and healthy, I’d be happy for you._

_Hell, if the Dark Lord were still living, you could _marry_ him and I’d be happy as long as he kept you away from them, and happy and healthy. _

_…_

_Pansy wanted me to tell you that she misses you. She’s currently in class, or else she’d be here too. Normally I wouldn’t help her win brownie points like that, but…I’m hoping that maybe knowing that you’re missed…maybe you’ll finally wake up._

_…_

_Ouch! Dammit!_

_I just want to hold your hand, Eden. _

_I want you to wake up._

Please wake up_, sister._

_…_

_I need you._

Eden curled into a tight ball after Draco fell silent and cried. She didn’t care if she woke Tom up with her tears.

She missed her brother. 

_Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey! Come quickly!_

_What? What is it? What’s wrong?_

_Look!_

_What? She’s—she’s—she’s—_

_She’s crying._

* * *

_Tuesday, November 28, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“I have been moved to St. Mungo’s and I have been pricked four, technically twenty, more times, and have been declared to be in a Magical Coma,” Eden informed Tom from her spot on the ground in front of the trunk when he arrived back from lunch.

“Is that why the Course ate you up and spat you back out?” he questioned slyly as he sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I was going easy on it.”

He hummed and kissed the side of her neck. “Sure you were.”

She took a deep breath and ignored the pounding in her chest and pushed her way out of his arms and stood. “How was class?” She yelped when his hands found their way back around her and pulled her back to him. She landed with a dull groan when he pulled her a little too hard.

“It was good. Bloody hard not to laugh when you were being tossed around like a ragdoll, but, alas, somehow I made it through.”

Eden pouted and tried to bite him.

“Sadist,” she grumbled after many failed attempts and surrender. She yelped and rubbed her aching nose with a glare at him.

He bit too hard.

“Masochist.” 

_Compartment 9—Barren Wasteland_

Eden swore loudly and violently when she slipped five feet. When her feet landed on the outcropping she had been trying to leave for the last five minutes, she leaned against the face of the mountain and swore even more.

“Eden dear, I don’t think that swearing at the mountain is going to get you anywhere,” Tom idly commented from where he was most-likely lounging on the couch reading a good book.

“I’d like to see _you_ try and do this,” she gasped through a burning—raging hurting dying _boiling_—throat. Her lungs were also on fire, and she knew that water would help.

Now, if only she could _drink_ water.

Almost as if it had a mind of its own, her magic summoned a clear goblet of water, and unable to resist, she grabbed it. She hesitated for only a moment before she pressed the rim against her lips, and titled her head back, and began to drink.

Unlike when they had tested what she could and couldn’t do while she was with Tom in the past, the water actually passed her lips, trailed a soothing path down her parched and burning throat, before it oozed down her esophagus and pooled in her stomach. It was quite possibly one of the best things she had ever experienced.

Until it disappeared.

She gagged at the strange feeling, but the goblet was full once more, and she still burned, so she drank.

“Eden?”

“Yes?”

“Are you…_drinking_?”

“I think so. I could be hallucinating though,” she answered after she finished the goblet and gagged again when it disappeared once more.

“How are you able to drink?”

“I have no clue.”

“Okay.” She could tell that it pained him to say this.

She drank some more, and a prick in her elbow had the water sloshing out of her cup and against her skin. “Hey, do you think that one of the potions could be the cause as to why I can drink now?”

“Depends. What are they giving you?”

“Wide-Eye, three nutritional, and a hydrating potion.”

“It could be the hydrating potion is causing you to be able to drink, as you’re exercising without water, and you’re dehydrating yourself. I really have no clue.”

“How that must ache.”

“Keep climbing, witch.”

“Bastard.”

“Language.”

“Sadist.”

“Masochist.”

* * *

_Saturday, December 2, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

_Is everything alright, Healer Michaels?_

Eden sat up from where her head had been resting on Tom’s legs as they read and tilted her head to the side as her book fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Was something wrong?

Healer Michaels, was—as she gathered—her main healer, and was trained in both muggle and magical medicine. She didn’t hear him often, but, whenever she did, it was usually him informing her visitors—the Malfoy’s, Sirius, Remus, and Mariea (and whichever student decided to risk detention and House-points at that moment in time)—that she was fine, only in a Magical Coma, and that if she were ever to awaken, she would do so on her own terms.

“What is it, darling?” Tom asked.

“Shh. Healer Michaels.”

_Everything is nearly perfect, which is why I’m confused._

_What do you mean?_

_Typically, people, when on prolonged bedrest or in a vegetative state like Miss Potter, their bodies and magic start to deteriorate._

_What do you mean?_

_They lose muscle, fat, weight. Their magic starts to decrease; they become nothing more than skin and bones. Miss Potter, however, seems to not only be losing the fat on her body—and even then it’s at a much more rapid pace than any others I’ve seen—she also seems to be _gaining_ muscle. Her magic flares at the most random of times. She _sweats_ at the most random of times. Sometimes I swear that I see cuts or injuries on her, but when I move to get a closer look, they’re gone. I’ve done countless tests. I’ve had others test her, I’ve even debated on letting muggles have a go, but, they would use machines and those can never be trusted when it comes to a Magical being, and even if it could be, because of the Magical Coma, they wouldn’t be able to touch her to do tests._

_So…she’s healthier than she should be?_

_Yes._

_…And you’re worried?_

_Yes._

It was silent for a moment.

_Have you heard about her healing directly after the Task?_

_The glowing red and purple light?_

_Yes. Do you think that could have something to do with it?_

Silence.

_Perhaps._

_Healer Michaels, if I may, I think you should stop worrying unless she takes a turn for the worst. She’s fine, in a Magical Coma, but other than that, fine._

_You’re right, Healer Johnson. I’m just confused._

“You and me both, buddy,” Eden whispered.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked after her head straightened—a sign that the talking on her side was finished (or at least done _listening_).

“Our plan is working—the one to keep me healthy. The exercise we’re doing here is affecting my body there,” she explained.

“Even though we aren’t seeing any visible changes here?’

“Evidently so.”

The two were silent as they both contemplated the information received. “I really wish we knew what was going on,” she said after a moment. “Or at least had something to compare it to.”

He sighed and gently pulled her head back into his lap and ran his fingers through her hair. “So do I, little one, so do I.”

* * *

_Tuesday, December 5, 1944_

_ Transfiguration Classroom_

Something was wrong with Tom.

At least, according to Eden there was. She currently stood behind him in his Transfiguration class under a disillusionment spell—this one was slightly altered to make it more pleasant—with her hand on his shoulder. While it wasn’t a strange occurrence for her to attend classes with him—up until November, that was basically all they did—this _was_ the first time that she’d attended with him since the Task nearly 2 weeks ago. She supposed that that fact and his stubborn clinginess could explain his current behavior—but she didn’t think that _truly_ got it right.

What was strange about this class—and his behavior (she was sure it would last for the next two classes as well)—was that he absolutely _refused_ to let her walk around the classroom.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to walk around with play with things the professors had in the rooms whenever she got bored. She did it in all of his classes, but her favorites were Transfiguration—because of Ol’ Dumbles—and History of Magic because _duh_.

In those two classes, it wasn’t uncommon to have objects suddenly be in the air and tossed around before being caught and put back just as the professor turned around to find out why the class was laughing during their Very Boring Lecture.

The students in all of his classes—but mainly those two—had come to the collective—if not incompletely correct—conclusion that one of the students in the class was practicing nonverbal and wandless magic.

Eden had already tried three times to start playing with Dumbles new pet—a phoenix (how ironic)—only to be spelled in place by Tom. She would spend the next three minutes getting out of the spell and then she’d wait patiently—okay, _impatiently_—for another four minutes before she attempted to go again.

When the current four minutes were up, she dropped her hand off of his shoulder and waited for another minute to see if he would spell her in place again. When his magic didn’t touch her, she took a silent step back and had to hide a cry of joy when again, he didn’t spell her.

She made it to the side of his desk before her feet were spelled to the floor.

She didn’t bother to hide her angry grumbles—although they were silent enough that those still practicing the assignment didn’t hear her. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.

His lips twitched as if he could see her doing so before he performed the spell perfectly. Her scowl deepened and she stole his wand—and turned it invisible—just as Dumbles walked up. “Well done Tom—what?”

Eden had exacted Revenge.

She had waved Tom’s wand and transfigured Tom’s finger tips into knife points and Dumbles beard into a nest of snakes. Unable to hide her laughter, Eden snorted and covered her mouth as he turned to her. “It seems that one of you has deemed it fit to practice body transfiguration on a classmate and me today. Who did it?”

Eden easily broke out of the spell—thank you, wand—and ran up to stand behind the phoenix. “I did,” she called out softly. She reached out a gentle hand and pet the bird softly on its head. It cooed gently and leaned into her touch as it turned its head slightly and looked straight into her eyes.

Could phoenixes see through magic?

“Fawkes?”

She successfully hid a snort and swore she saw amusement in the bird’s eyes. “That’s not my name, but yes, ‘twas I, ‘twas I,” she responded flippantly.

If birds could laugh, the phoenix would be doing so, if the trills were anything to go by.

“But—” Before he could finish, the bell rang and only Tom had managed to complete the assignment.

Tom summoned his wand and pulled her to him with a tight rope of magic. Her elbow jabbed into Dumbles stomach as Tom’s bag packed itself. He put a magical leash on her and pulled her out of the classroom behind him. His magic swirled around him in an angry haze. “Abraxas, please inform Professor Merrythought that I won’t be able to attend class today.”

“Of course, Tom.”

He pulled her into an unused classroom and after he locked the doors and put up wards, dropped the spells from Eden. “Fix it,” he hissed as he held out his hands to her. Eden giggled and did as ordered. She twirled his wand through her fingers before she handed it back. “I’m torn between punishing you and rewarding you,” he said thoughtfully a moment later.

Eden sat on a desk and swung her legs back and forth. “Explain your reasoning for both.”

“I want to reward you for the beard and pretending to be his pet and sending him into a midlife crisis. I want to punish you for transfiguring my fingers. How do you stand doing that with your Ring?” he demanded as he flexed the appendages.

“I only do my fingernail, and it’s only long enough to cut my finger. As to your reasoning, they are both valid reasons. Might I suggest doing both as you seem so torn?”

He rose a brow as his lips quirked. “You’re willing to be punished?”

She scoffed slightly. “Knowing you, it’s going to be the Obstacle Course From Hell set to the Ninth Layer setting.”

The grin she received in reply should be highly illegal; punishable by Azkaban, in fact. 

_Compartment 10—Labyrinth_

“Remind me to never encourage you to punish me again!” she shrieked into his back as a large bird flew over their heads twenty minutes later.

Tom laughed and shot a blue spell at it. “You know, I don’t think I will.”

A roar sounded behind her and she turned to come face to face with Abyss. The rotting flesh on his face almost caused her to gag—really, compared to the Horcruxes though, that was nothing (it was only this thought that allowed her to not dry heave).

“Alright, I’ve been punished enough,” she whined, near tears as she pushed into his back in a weak attempt to get away from the Hellhound. “**Please can we go now**?” She climbed on top of him as Abyss took a step closer to her. The Hellhound roared and flesh-eating saliva shot towards the two.

Tom laughed and the two flew out of the trunk, the saliva missing them by millimeters. 

_Head Dorms_

He placed her on the couch and knelt in front of her shaking form. “Are you alright?” he asked softly as his hands rubbed up and down her arms and stroked her hands. His heart broke whenever he saw her like this, and it seemed to shatter whenever _he_ was the cause.

She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. _Please_ don’t make me go in there again,” she whispered. Somehow, his heart broke even more when he saw the tears begin to pool in her eyes.

He moved his hands to hold her face. He ran his thumbs along the bottom of her eyes, and the tears that had pooled spilled out at the motion. “I won’t make you go in there unless you ask to, my love.” He leaned forward and kissed away her tears and wrapped her tightly in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She returned his embrace, and his heart slowly started to mend itself as she curled into him. “I know.” 

_Ancient Runes Classroom_

It was during the last class of the day that Eden decided that Tom was either ill, dying, or certifiable.

Possibly all three.

She was spelled to the floor underneath his desk—he probably did it in an attempt to prevent another transfiguration of body parts (if she were _truly_ motivated, however, the spell wouldn’t stop her)—while he worked on an assignment that she didn’t quite understand, mainly because she hadn’t been paying attention to the professor when she assigned it.

She flinched and banged her knee against the edge of the desk and slapped her hands over her mouth to keep from making a sound when his hand found its way into her hair. She heard his deep chuckle as the ward to allow them to speak to each other lifted around them.

“You’re a bastard,” she teased as she rubbed her knee.

He chuckled once more and ran his fingers through her hair again. “You love me,” he insisted.

“Hmm, not so sure I do,” she replied softly. He tensed and the fingers in her hair stopped their movements. Had she done something wrong? They always teased each other like this. “Tom?” she whispered, “did I say something wrong?”

She heard him take a shaky breath before his hand moved to rest on top of his desk. “I’m fine.”

The ward dropped and they spoke no more until the class neared its end when she wrapped her small hand around his ankle. The ward quickly formed around them. “I do care about you, Tom. You’re my closest friend, and you know me better than I know myself, sometimes. I need you in my life. I say the wrong things, and I don’t think, and, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think that I don’t like you.”

His hand landed back on her head with a bit of groping and he again gently ran his fingers through her hair once more. “I forgive you.”

She smiled and nuzzled her nose against his knee. “Good.”

He chuckled once more, and fire raced through the very foundation of her most basic genetic makeup as it echoed in her ears. He dropped the ward, and the two remained in companionable silence, with her fingers around his ankle, and his in her hair. 

_Head Dorms_

“Remind me _why_ we’re doing this again?” she demanded as they climbed out of the Running Track room.

“To keep you healthy,” he panted from behind her.

She collapsed to the floor, her legs jelly, her stomach aching, and her lungs burning. “Wrong. You’re trying to kill me. That’s why we’re doing this.”

He laid down next to her and wrapped his arms around her, despite how terribly they both sweated. As she lay panting, she heard the faint sound of drops as their bodies tried to cool down. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“You could do it a better way,” she gasped. She grimaced as she felt the sweat drip down their bodies and onto the stone floor.

He placed a kiss on her sweaty cheek. “You know…I don’t think I could.”

“Bastard.”

“Language, darling.”

“Sadistic bastard.” He smirked against her cheek.

“Masochist.”

“Unfortunately.”

“W-What?” He drew away from her at stared at her with wide eyes.

“What?” she asked in a naïve voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ve probably noticed the different spellings of the word ‘magic’. There is a reason for this. In pop culture you’ll see it spelled like Magick or even Magik, and so, I looked up the differences and decided to utilize them in this. What follows is how these spellings apply to In My Dreams.
> 
> magic refers to someone’s Core—their own abilities.
> 
> Magic is when it’s Mother Magic, or a broad type of Magic, or a name of a Magic Branch.
> 
> Magick will be used when talking about Olde Magick
> 
> Magik is anything that has to do with the Aether. 
> 
> There are reasons behind each of these spellings, and if you want to read the article that I did, just search for the difference between magic and magick. I didn’t read the entire article, just enough to get the gist of what I needed to be able to use it for myself, so, there is a chance that whatever they said in the first sevenish paragraphs completely changed in the remaining 20 or so.


	15. 14 Hogsmeade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surgery sucks.  
10/10 do NOT recommend (unless it's absolutely needed)  
Here's chapter 14.  
Enjoy.

_Saturday, December 9, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“Eden, for the love of Mordred, I swear if you don’t get up right now, I’m going to hex you to the moon and back!” he snarled as he yanked the blanket off of her for the third time. Instead of leaving it within semi-easy reach like he had before, he pulled it off of the bed completely and threw it to the side.

“Why?” she whined before she pushed her head under her pillow, her book all but forgotten as it fell to the floor with a dull thud. She squinted with a vile hiss when that was yanked away from her too. She grabbed his pillow—that still smelled like him—and soon the bed was bare of everything except for Eden and the spelled sheets—she had no doubt that were they not spelled to stay _on_ the bed, they would be gone as well.

“Because I said so.”

“_Why_? It’s _Saturday_,” she moaned. He sat down on the bed with a deep sigh and pulled harshly on her hand and yanked her into his chest. She fought him and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, so she was more sushi roll than human. “You said I could have today _off_!” She tried to pull out of his embrace and failed once more.

She was so _sore_. She had been looking forward to finally having a day where she could do whatever she wanted, whether that was read anything she could get her hands on, or annoy the absolute _hell_ out of Tom—she wasn’t picky, as long as she didn’t have to go into the bloody trunk, she was good.

“Yes, that is true. The reason I gave you today off from your training, is because I’m taking you on a date,” he explained as he started to run his fingers through her hair, his magic easing out the tangles from a night of him cuddling her while she read.

She tried to pull away once more. “Why the bloody hell are you taking me on a date?” she demanded over his grunts from her elbowing him in the stomach. “I don’t _exist here_! Have you forgotten that _crucial_ teeny tiny insignificant little _fact_?” She accidently kicked him in the crotch. While he writhed in agony, she quickly saved the fluffy blanket from Eternal Doom and curled up like a potato on the bed as far away as she could get from Tom. “Oh, wait!” she started, “I—ouch, bloody _hell_ that hurt! I know! You’re going to be holding hands with an invisible girl so your friends will _all_ make fun of you,” she snipped over his groans of pain.

She rubbed at her arm where five red dots were now bleeding lightly—it seemed that the longer she was in the Coma, the more her not-physical(?) body reacted to the things that affected her real body in her time. She healed the dots and giggled at a particularly explicit hiss from Tom. She rolled just enough so she could stare at him comfortably, and when she giggled again, he glared at her.

“I’m starting to believe that _you’re_ the sadist, my dear,” he groaned. He quickly recovered—she suspected he cast some sort of pain-relief spell—and once again doomed her to a cold rest—that is, if he’d let her rest. They both had _extraordinary _levels of stubbornness that would one day either get them killed—by the other—or living happily ever after—it depended on the day (sometimes even the _time_ of day) for which one she hoped for.

“No,” she started as she curled into a ball once more, “maybe…. It’s only part-time,” she decided. “You’re a full-time sadist; I’m a _part-time_ sadist, and a _full-time_ masochist.”

Tom ceased in his trying to get her off the bed for a moment as he groaned. “_Please_ stop saying that.”

Her left brow furrowed in confusion. “But why?”

He paused once more in trying to pull her off by her ankle—it kind of hurt, to be honest. “Do you even _know_ what those two words mean?”

“_Yes_. A sadist is someone who enjoys inflicting pain upon another person, and a masochist is someone who finds gratification in pain.”

“So, can you see as to why it would make me uncomfortable to have you say that?”

“No.” He started to protest. “You don’t gain anything worthwhile without pain. I don’t know if it’s a saying in this time, but, _no pain, no gain_ is very popular in my time.”

He gave one last hard tug on her ankle and maneuvered her so she sat on the bed to face him. He placed his hands on either side of her neck and tilted her head back to look her in the eyes. “You really are innocent, aren’t you, my little one,” he said in awe.

“What are you talking about?” He blushed and adverted his gaze. “Why are you blushing, Tom?”

“It’s nothing.”

He refused to look at her.

“It most certainly is not _nothing_. This is the most you’ve blushed since I got here when you were in the showers in first year. Tell! Me!”

Tom sighed after three minutes of incessant prodding and sat down on the bed next to her—he seemed to make sure that there was some space between them—a very stark contrast to the last few weeks, when if they were in the same room, and not training, they needed to be touching. “_Fine_, you mangy _pest_. Usually…when someone refers to themselves as a masochist…they mean it in a…uh…_sexual_ connotation.”

Eden flushed a brilliant red, and she swore that her face melted as he continued to refuse to look at her. “Oh, uh…I…. Uh—”

She stood and ran to his bathroom; after she closed and locked the door, she hid in the large clawfoot tub with her arms wrapped tightly around her shins and her chin propped on her bony knees.

A soft knock echoed on the door.

“Eden?” When she didn’t respond to her name, or the various other names that he called her, he just unlocked the door and stepped into the room.

He stood in the doorway for a moment and stared at her before a soft smile spread across his lips. He climbed in to the tub and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pressed his cheek against it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have realized that I was making you uncomfortable every time I said it,” she paused as she thought of all the times she had agreed or implied that she was a masochist after that first time. She hadn’t put much thought into it, but now that she realized it, she realized that she had agreed because it got _some_ reaction out of Tom—a reaction she rarely _saw_. “But, Tom…. If you knew what it meant…in _all_ connotations…why—why did you start calling me it?”

He looked away. “Because I was…” he sighed, “you had called me a sadist, and I just figured that it was _true_—I find great pleasure in causing others pain, as you well know…and I just thought…I don’t know. I guess since it appeared that you didn’t mind, I just—”

“It was a joke and not meant to be used in that way, and when I started to agree with you, you misunderstood me,” she explained for him to save them _both_ from his babbling. At any given time, Tom was usually the most eloquent person in the universe, however, when he got blindsided, he got babbly—and it was a _bad_ babbly.

She had learned long ago to stop him in his tracks whenever he started towards the Path of Tom-Babbling.

“Yes, exactly.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence as they basked in each other’s warmth and company.

“So, uh…. Date?” she asked when the tension became too much.

“Yes. Hogsmeade. And you’re going to be visible.”

“If you take me to Madam Puddifoot’s, I’m destroying the diary, the ring, and I am _ending you_.”

She, Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, Tracy, Ambrosia, Blaire, and Janice had all gone their third year as a bonding thing between the Slytherin girls in their year, just to see what all of the fuss was about.

Eden had never been back.

“Where?” he asked as he helped her out of her self-imposed prison and started to transfigure her clothes into something more appropriate than a halter tank-top, yoga pants, and a pair of socks she stole from Tom—hers had been destroyed beyond repair during the Task (she only had one on when she had fallen asleep).

“Oh, thank Morgana!” she gasped dramatically as she placed her hand over her heart. “Do you think that demonic ducks would overrule the future if I prevented that horrible, horrible, place from ever being built?”

Tom laughed deeply and lead her out of the bathroom. “I’m not entirely sure, but, considering the fact that you didn’t tell me that I’d become Head Boy for the exact same reason, I assume it’s a very high possibility considering how much of an affect it has had on you.”

Why didn’t he even bother to _try_ to hide his amusement?

“Dammit.”

“Language.”

She lifted a brow—that was how she _always_ admitted to being a masochist. “Do you really want to get into this again?”

He opened his mouth and then immediately snapped it shut as he realized what she had. “You’re right.”

“I thought you were right.”

“I am right.”

“Does that mean I’m left?

“What?”

“You need help.”

“I am absolutely positive, that out of the two of us, it is _you_ who needs the help, my darling.”

Eden paused in her examination of her new clothes—they were apparently the height of pureblood fashion and (terribly itchy)—and looked at him with a critical eye. “Perhaps we both need help.”

_Hogsmeade Path_

Eden snickered softly as Orion Black tripped again due to the tripling jinx sent his way by Tom’s wand, wielded by her. Tom squeezed her hand in warning, and her response—really, he should have expected this—was to send one at Abraxas Malfoy. She had finally learned all of his roommates’ names—although Abraxas was by _far_ the easiest because Lucius was practically a carbon copy of him, and she had met him in her time.

“**If you don’t stop**,” he hissed softly, “**then I will make you regret it**.”

“**Oh, come on! You’re enjoying it as much as I am, if not _more_, you fricken _sadist_**.”

His grip tightened on her hand, and he didn’t respond, which told her she was right in her statement—both of them—and had to desperately hide the snicker that so _badly_ wanted to leave her lips.

_Hogsmeade_

After they reached the small village, the two branched off from his ‘friends’, and he pulled her into the tree line. Once they were surrounded by snow covered trees, he removed the disillusionment spell from her skin. She shivered at the feeling of the spell sliding off of her, and smiled at him. He offered her his arm, and once she took it, pulled her slightly closer and placed a kiss on her forehead—she wondered why a basilisk had grown in her stomach.

“Shall we, my lady?”

She giggled and nodded her head. “We shall.”

He put a spell on the trees and tugged her out from the grove of trees, and led her down the snow-covered pathway and in the direction of the pub filled with students. “Has it changed much from your time?” he asked softly as she huddled closer to him.

The stares the two of them received reminded her too much of the own she got in her time, and even though they weren’t hostile—mostly—she was strangely uncomfortable with them.

“Not really. There are some places here that are in **my time**,” she switched to Parseltongue as a group of girls started to walk uncomfortably close to them. She fought the urge to hex them as they pointed and giggled at Tom while they tried to flirt with him—bless his fractured soul, he didn’t even look at them.

“**And there are some places in my time that aren’t here; restaurants, stores, homes, and buildings are some of the main things that I don’t see, and there are even some places here that aren’t in my time**.”

He nodded thoughtfully, tugged her closer once more, and opened the door to the bustling pub.

_The Three Broomsticks_

“What’s wrong?” he asked after he led her inside the pub, and she tightened her already tight hold on him.

“They’re staring,” she whispered, “I don’t like being stared at.” The sweet smell of ozone permeated the air for a moment, and then his comforting magic caressed her as it washed over her. A breath born of pure relief slipped through her lips when the stares were adverted. “Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course.”

He easily led her through the packed pub and to the bar where he dropped the notice-me-not charm. “Two butterbeer’s please.” His hand moved down to rest on her left hip as he adjusted her so she stood in front of him, with her back pressed against his chest. He held her waist possessively with his right arm, and rested his chin on the top of her head, much to her consternation.

She felt his chest rumble, as if he were growling, and pulled her eyes away from examining the differences between her time and this time. She tilted her head back, which forced him to lift his head, and rested the crown of her head against his sternum. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re staring at you with lust,” he muttered in a hiss that was almost parseltongue. He turned his gaze down to her, and she recognized the burning fires of anger deep in his hardened icy orbs. She lifted her hand and awkwardly stroked his cheek. The hellfire in his eyes quickly died down and he turned his head enough to press a kiss to the palm of her right hand.

“I’m with you,” she whispered softly, “not them, _you_.”

“You’re right,” he sighed, “I’m just used to being the only one who can see you at any given time.”

Her eyes widened in realization. “That’s how you knew where I was and what I was doing that day in Transfiguration!”

He grinned and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course, I’m not going to risk losing you, especially since you don’t know how to drop the spell on your own.”

_Supposedly_ it was just like dropping the disillusionment charm, but, she had yet to figure out how to drop it. “It’s not that I don’t know how…it’s just that I don’t have my wand.”

He rolled his eyes. “Our wands are brother’s, dearest. They’ll work for both of us, just as if they were our own.”

Their drinks were placed on the counter in front of them, and with a thank you, he led her over to a suddenly free table in the back corner next to a window and the two sat and drank their butterbeer’s and chatted and ignored the jealous and lustful stares sent their way.

“Alright, I’ve got one.” Tom was on his third glass of butterbeer, while she still had a bit left in her first glass, and they had been playing a game as they drank. “Would you rather do a sexy tango with a hippogriff or a mountain troll?”

Tom snorted into his drink and wiped at his mouth with a napkin that appeared on their table. “Sometimes I worry where you get your ideas, dear.”

As did she.

“Answer the question, Riddle.”

He smirked at the name. “I guess if I really had to, I’d do the hippogriff.”

Her lips twitched. Monty had _corrupted_ her. “Why?”

“Once I earn its respect, it’s less likely to try and kill me.” Eden laughed and took a sip. “Would you rather date a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff?”

“Oh, Hufflepuff by far,” she answered instantly.

“Would you rather…” she trailed off as she thought. “I’ve got nothing.” She slumped forward and her chin rested on the rim of her newly empty glass.

Tom smiled softly at her. “That’s fine. It appears we are both done, so, if you’d like, we could go elsewhere.” Eden nodded her assent and the two left the pub, a notice-me-not charm back in place. “Where would you like to go?” Eden smiled and took his hand in hers and pulled him after her.

She glanced behind her and smiled at him, and her heart fluttered at his return smile.

_Hogwarts Property—Exact Location Unknown_

They were among the last of the students to make their way up to the castle. The sun had set long ago, and the temperatures had dropped drastically. Tom had his arms wrapped tightly around Eden—he practically carried her—as they made their way slowly, but surely, back home.

After the Three Broomsticks, they had gone to Tomes and Scrolls and spent a majority of the day there reading various texts, and debating topics with their vast viewpoints—his from his personal experience, and her from the research that had been done in her time (she was careful to not give too many things away, though).

After that, they went to a jewelry store that didn’t exist in her time where she ogled at the sparkly items for probably much longer than she should have—Tom was truly a saint. And then about an hour prior, she had watched Tom obliviate and confund his ‘friends’ when they ran into each other and had started teasing the two.

“Did you have fun?” Tom asked after a moment. They were the only two on the tree-lined path, and it was dark and quiet, which made it seem like they were the only two people in the world.

“I did, thank you. I can’t imagine a better date.” She smiled at him, grateful that she didn’t wear the modified disillusionment charm.

“So…I did better than someone in your own time?”

Why did he sound so nervous?

“I assume so. I’ve never been on one before, but, from what Pansy, Senny, and Nee-Nee have told me, you did exponentially better than their dates.”

Draco, Blaise, and Theo _really_ needed to take lessons from Tom.

He paused and turned her towards him. “This was your first date?”

Eden flushed and looked down and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you have any special customs in your time that you wished we had done?” She fought the blush that battled to rise to her cheeks and wasn’t sure if she succeeded or not. She quickly shook her head. “Are there any that we haven’t done that you don’t care about doing?”

Dammit.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I don’t care about doing it.” She refused to look at his gloating eyes.

“And what would this custom be?” She flushed again and kept her eyes firmly adverted. She no longer knew if he was teasing her because he knew exactly what it was, or if he was genuinely curious (she didn’t know it, but it was the latter).

“Typically,” she started slowly, “theguykissesthegirlatthecommonroomentrance,” she said so fast and mumbled that his head reared back and his eyes widened.

“Pardon?”

“Theguykissesthegirlatthecommonroomentrance.”

“Eden, sweetie, could you say that a little bit louder and slower?” He forced her to look at him and her brows furrowed in distress.

She glared at him and adverted her eyes to his shoulder. “Typically…the guy…” she cut off and buried her face in her hands.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he teased softly—she didn’t see the understanding or _want_ begin to light in his eyes.

“If you keep teasing me I won’t tell you!”

He pulled her head so she was again looking at him. “I apologize. Please, continue.”

She adverted her eyes and stared at the moon as it rose just behind his head. “Typically the guy…and the girl…at the common room…entrance…” She took a deep breath. _Just say it, Eden!_ “Kiss.”

She startled when he stroked her cheek. She turned her eyes to him and blushed at the warmth in his eyes. “Well then,” he whispered and tightened his hold on her waist. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“That’s not necessary!” she squeaked and tried to pull away, but the arm on her back prevented her.

“I believe that it is.” He bent his head down and paused just as his nose brushed hers.

Their friendship—

“Tom,” she whispered, desperate to get the words out, to deny herself this guilty pleasure she had been thinking about on and off for the last year—especially since he kissed her back in September. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could feel it against his own chest. She knew he felt her quaking hands, for they clutched onto the edge of his cloak and robes as if they were the only things that held her above a churning and dangerous ocean of horrifying emotions she didn’t quite understand.

He nudged slightly closer, and their breath mingled even more. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he demanded as they stared into each other’s eyes. She fell into the ocean of blue, and her heart increased its frantic dance.

What if they—

“_Tom_,” she whispered once more, desperate to push all her thoughts and feelings into that one word—into him.

“Close your eyes.”

She did as told, and his nose pulled away from the skin of her cheek and bumped her own once…twice…and then his lips were pressed against hers. All thoughts of protest faded away into the deepest depths of her mind at the gentle, barely-there press of lips.

He pulled away and her eyes fluttered open and met his own oceanic eyes. He stared into the most private reaches of her soul for a moment before his thumb moved and stroked over her left eye, and once her eyes were closed after she obeyed the silent command, his lips were back on hers, more insistent this time.

His lips pressed firmly to her own, and the hand on her back pulled her closer—_somehow_—and the hand on her face moved to rest against her neck. His thumb pressed slightly against the hollow of her throat as his lips moved gently and slowly against her own.

He pulled away after a minute of languid kissing, with her bottom lip between both of his. He pecked her lips three times before he rested his forehead against her own. Her hands moved from the death grip around his robes, and her arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

“When you kiss me,” she whispered, “I feel like I’m being shocked by the Wyvern again. Only, I like the way it feels when you kiss me. I definitely wouldn’t want to be kissed by the dragon…”

He chuckled deeply before his nose bumped her own twice again, and then she was floating on clouds of moonlit euphoria. She became lost to the world around her, and her _entire_ world became Tom: where his hands held her, where his lips touched her own, where his teeth nipped, where his hair brushed against her forehead. She was absolutely convinced that there was no way that it could get any better until it did.

His tongue startled her at first, caused her to gasp, allowed it to enter her mouth, and then she was led in an intoxicating dance that she never wanted to end. Her hands slid up his chest and caused a deep groan to resonate as they did so slowly. They wrapped around his neck and her hands burrowed into his hair and pulled slightly.

A growl left his throat, and the kiss deepened, and his grip tightened almost painfully. His hand tightened around her throat for a moment before he let go and gathered the hair at the base of her head and pulled harshly. He tilted her head into the perfect position so he could deepen the kiss once more.

Liquid fire raced through her veins before it pooled low in her stomach. She felt like she was falling, tumbling, flying, and soaring all at once. Her head spun, and she no longer knew if she was among the living.

It was heaven.

_Tom_ was her Heaven.

What little breath she had been able to gain from the little gasps she was able to grab in between kisses was knocked out of her as she was pushed harshly against the thick trunk of a tree—she hadn’t even been aware they were moving. The bark cut through her thin clothing, and that combined with the pulling on her hair, and the pressure of feeling him pressed entirely against her had a breathy moan spilling out of her mouth and into his.

He ripped his lips away suddenly, and rested his forehead against her own as he held her off of the ground. “Eden,” he sighed softly through deep, gasping breaths.

“Tom,” she responded the same way. He pushed her further into the tree and her eyes closed at his closeness. “Don’t let go, Tom.”

He pressed his lips against hers once more in a soft kiss—at least, compared to the last however many. She sighed into his mouth when his tongue wrapped around her own. He chuckled as he pulled away. “I’m never letting you go,” he whispered before he pressed his lips against her neck in an open-mouthed kiss. “You’re mine, Eden.”

“I’m yours, just as you are mine,” she whispered, her eyes fluttered closed as they sealed their vows with another kiss that tore apart the universe and rebuilt it with the two of them wholly intertwined at the center.

As Tom held her against the tree and devoured her mouth, words echoed in his mind before they faded into oblivion forever.

_Love her…you do not have much time…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry for such a late update. I decided to rewrite the chapter on Monday, and then they moved my surgery up on Wednesday, so, only half of it was rewritten, but, I'm much happier with it now than I was before. 
> 
> Thanks for all of the support, and again, I read all of your comments, and they seriously make my day.
> 
> UPDATE ON CHAPTER 9: AFTERMATH! The only thing changed was the fact that I screwed up with my math. I said that there were only 11 Fourth year Slytherin's, when in fact, there are fifteen. That's it. I'm going to go now.


	16. 15 Affections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very important author's note at the end. Please read it. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to sept05
> 
> If you noticed, I posted a second work called In My Memories. It's just little snapshots from different times in the story.

_Sunday, December 10, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

Eden smiled against Tom’s lips when he kissed her after he woke up.

“Good morning,” she whispered once he pulled away. She closed the book on Tree Magic she had been reading and set it to the side.

He smiled—her heart stopped—and pressed his lips against hers again in a deep kiss. “Good morning,” he cooed after he finished kissing her senseless.

She ran her fingers through his mussed up hair from sleeping and the kissing session they had just had. “How did you sleep?” she asked softly—it was something she asked every time he woke up.

“Quite well. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep without you again,” he whispered against her lips and kissed her once more—that was a new answer. “Or ever stop tasting you.” His tongue slipped into her mouth and she held onto him, for she feared that if she let go, she’d fall into the vast cosmos and never return.

Once he seemed to have his fill of kissing her, her lips were sore and her lungs were burning. “How can you go so long without _air_?” she panted softly.

He smiled sown at her and stroked the velvety soft skin of her cheek. “I’m bigger than you are, love.”

Eden pointedly looked at his body which pressed fully against her. “Clearly.”

He laughed and rolled off of her. “Today we’re going to be working on wandless magic.”

She groaned before she covered her head with a pillow. “Do we have to?” She groaned again when the fluff was taken away from her.

“Yes. It’s a useful skill to have, and the earlier you learn wandless magic, the easier it will be to manipulate your magic without needing to rely on spells.”

“That’s possible?”

“Yes, it’s like your glitter sparks, dear. Spells make it easier to control your magic and get the desired result more effectively, but, it is possible to use your magic without them. What do you think accidental magic is?”

“I use a spell for the sparks—I made it, but still…” she answered absently as she thought. “So…you can turn accidental magic into…purposeful magic?”

He pecked her nose and smiled at the little twitch it gave. “10 points to Slytherin. Now, get up, stretch, and after I eat, it’s into the trunk.”

_Compartment 1—Training Arena_

“It’s not possible, Tom,” Eden snapped after the 189th failed try. She wasn’t counting—truly, she wasn’t (she was).

He placed his hand on her shoulders and tilted her head back so she would still look him in the eyes. “It _is_ possible, love. It took me _years_ of study and practice to do this. I don’t expect you to get it down today. I just want you to get used to feeling your magic, and then feeling the Magic in the air around you. And, if you feel you can do it, I want you to try, okay? I’m going to walk you through it a little differently this time, alright?”

Eden huffed, closed her eyes, and nodded. “Alright.”

Tom bumped her nose with his before he moved to stand behind her. His hands moved down her arms before they snaked and curled around her front and rested on her stomach, a little bellow her navel. He pressed down gently, and started to speak. “As you know, this is where your Core is most concentrated, where the heart—if you will—of it is. Your magic starts here, and moves out to every part of your body, and even beyond it, especially when you are in danger, or your emotions are heightened. What we’re going to do right now, all I want you to focus on, is to start feeling your magic in the air around you.”

“I’m not emotional.”

Stellar.

How she was among the top students in her year—probably would _be_ the top if she didn’t hold back—he would never know.

(he knew, he was just being spiteful)

“True, but the more powerful you are, the more your magic is out of your body and surrounding you. I’ve sensed your magic swirling around you since the day we met, Eden. You are _very_ powerful, and you have _a lot_ of magic surrounding you. So, close your eyes, and just focus. Breathe in, breathe out…in…out…in…out…”

As she followed his guidance, Eden reached out and slowly began to feel for her magic, and found it very quickly—much faster than she anticipated she would. It mixed almost perfectly with Tom’s, and as he continued to aid her, she was able to wrap her magic around her feet and lift herself a little off of the ground.

Her concentration was immediately broken when his lips pressed against hers, his hands tangled in her hair, and pressed against her back. Gravity wrapped back around her like an unwanted heavy blanket, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep herself in his grip.

His mouth moved from hers and to the right side of her neck where he proceeded to bite, suck, lick, and kiss until she was a gooey, sighing mess in his arms.

“I told you, you could do it,” he breathed sometime later. They were now on the couch, and she was in his lap, straddling him. Her lips were swollen and her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

She could only smile and kiss him again.

* * *

_Monday, December 11, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

_Please wake up, Eden._

_Please…I need you._

We_ need you._

_I need her more than you do!_

_She’s my sister!_

_She’s _my_ sister, too!_

_I can’t believe you!_

_I can’t believe _you_!_

Eden snorted at the bickering between Pansy and Draco and shook her head when Tom looked at her questioningly as he looked up from his Ancient Runes homework.

As she listened to the semi-rehearsed argument between her pseudo-siblings, she couldn’t help but notice how stilted and…dare she say it…_uninteresting_ the argument was. Normally when the two argued, there would be sparks flying as words soaked in acid that oozed acrimonious vitriol colored the very air that they needed to breathe to survive.

Listening to the two now, however…. It almost broke her heart. It didn’t feel as if they were actually into the argument; it felt as if they were doing it because it was expected of them, not because they _wanted_ to argue about who she loved more, or who loved her more.

“Love?”

She looked up and smiled at Tom who sat on the other side of the room. “Yes?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Pansy and Dragon are arguing.” She snorted at a particularly creative insult from Pansy, but quickly sobered as the bluntness of the way it was said wore off—also the comments from Ambrosia and Blaise didn’t help with the humor. “They sound different though.”

“You’ve been unconscious for three weeks, love. They’re most likely just worried about you, and trying to convince you to come out of the Coma with their subpar arguing.” He stood from his place in the armchair and moved to sit next to her on the couch.

She nodded and leaned into him when the two teenagers were kicked out of the room along with her other visitors—she wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought that they might have been accompanied by the 17 first year Slytherin’s, and only 7 of the 15 fourth years (the rest were serving detention). He wrapped his arm around her neck and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yes, love?” he nuzzled her neck and latched onto a spot behind her right ear, and she turned to goop. She lost all brain function until he released her skin and repeated his question.

“Do you think that we could do a Ritual together?”

He sighed and nuzzled her neck once more. “I don’t know, love. They take _days_ of prep, sometimes even _weeks_.”

She pouted. “Well, if we go by my energy levels, I’d say we have _weeks_ to prep for one. Please, Tom? I really want to do one with you. I want to see how different it will be to do one with you, than with Cissica, the Albino Peacock, Dragon, Wings, Padfoot, and Moony.”

He sighed. “I’ll see if I can find one that will be beneficial for you, a cleansing Ritual, perhaps.”

She grinned and kissed his cheek. She giggled when a silly smile crossed his face. “Thank you, Tom.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, and she was in bliss.

* * *

_Tuesday, December 12, 1944_

_ Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom_

_How is she today?_

The tired voice of Healer Michaels filtered into Eden’s head while she leaned against Tom’s legs. The floor really was shockingly comfortable, and she wondered in some distant part of her mind if Tom had placed a cushioning charm on the ground below her.

_She’s the same, no changes. But…sir…_

_Yes?_

_We were washing her body_—Eden shivered and gagged to which Tom pet her hair in an attempt to sooth her—_and we found something_. Eden straightened and tilted her head to the right as if that would help her hear better. Tom scraped his nails gently against her scalp and she relaxed only slightly.

_What did you find?_

_We aren’t entirely sure. It’s definitely a bruise, but, we have no idea how it got there. _

_Where is it?_ It was silent a moment before the healer spoke again. _Run some tests on it. I’ll go do some more research on Magical Coma’s to see if this has happened before. Also, try and touch her with your hands again. Perhaps one of her visitors accidentally gave it to her. But, if that’s the case, then we’ve gone into completely unknown territory with the Coma._

_Yes, Healer Michaels._

Eden tensed and wrapped her fingers around Tom’s ankle. What was wrong with her? Was she dying? What was so special about a Magical Coma opposed to a normal coma?

She knew she didn’t have any bruises on her body because Tom was very resolute in healing every injury she got with _Medela Aer_—even _paper cuts_ (she was starting to think it was just to flaunt his power in front of her). They weren’t sure how it affected her ‘real’ body, and they didn’t want to take any risks.

A slight movement by her right thigh had her tensing even more before she realized once she realized that Tom was trying to calm her down by stroking her with his foot—that sounded so _weird_ (even in her head). She leaned against his legs and nuzzled his knee with her nose. She took a deep breath and relaxed even more when his hand stroked her hair once more.

_Have you figured anything out?_

Healer Michaels must be back.

_Nothing other than it’s probably just a bruise. I couldn’t find any reason or past instances on it appearing on others in a Magical Coma. Did you find anything? What about touching her?_

_No. No one can touch her yet, so one of her visitors didn’t give it to her. Besides, have you _seen_ the way they act around her? I don’t think they’d even _accidently_ give her a bruise. As for the tests, they all confirmed once more that it _is_ just a bruise._

She really needed to stop tuning the healer’s voices out whenever they spoke to each other around her. Perhaps she wouldn’t be as surprised when things like this happened—she had stopped listening because she didn’t want to know about their dating lives (she nearly had Tom obliviate her after one of the medi-wizards gave her her potions—she kept the memory, just so she would wait for both the right time, _and_ man).

_May I take a look?_ It was a woman’s voice that Eden had never heard before.

_Of course, Healer Jones._ Could she be related to the Healer Jones at Hogwarts during Tom’s time? A granddaughter or daughter? It was silent for a moment before the woman spoke again. _If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a hickey._

_Huh. You’re right. It still leaves the question as to how it could have gotten there though._

Eden tensed, dug her nails into Tom’s ankle, and stopped listening to the conversation. Shock, embarrassment, and rage filled her bones with a burning, icy flush with a strength that rivaled a hurricane. Without thinking, she opened her mouth.

“You gave me a hickey?” she shrieked. Due to the spell on her, her voice sounded slightly distorted. Tom jumped along with everyone else in the classroom. Professor Merrythought stopped teaching as she continued on, and hideous mortification fueled her tirade. “How could you give me a hickey and not get rid of it? _Why_ did you give me a hickey? How could you!?”

She suddenly realized that she was in fact _not_ alone with Tom, and slapped her hands over her mouth. She started to scoot away from him, but he quickly caught her and pulled her back to him with a rope of magic. Soon, one of the shocked students snorted, and the classroom was filled with laughter.

Frenzied indignation filled her as she felt _Tom_ shake with laughter.

“Alright, alright! Settle down class! I hope that young couple—whoever they are—figures it out. Now, as I was saying…”

Dammit.

Eden was _so_ getting punished for that. She could feel it deep within her soul.

_Head Dorms_

Eden decided that she quite liked Tom’s new form of punishment.

She was pressed harshly against the back of the dark oak door that separated Tom’s room from the rest of the vast Head Dorms. He held her up with pressure as his hands curled gently around her neck, and her legs wrapped around his waist as his lips, teeth and tongue brutally punished her.

As his tongue twined insistently with her own, she sighed and buried her fingers in his hair and pulled. A low moan rumbled from his throat and into her mouth. The kiss deepened even more—she was unsure as to how—and she was no longer able to take small gasps of air to lengthen the kiss.

Once the burning in her lungs got to be too much, she tried to pull away, only to fail. His hands around her neck tightened slightly—not enough to make her worry about him strangling her. Fire burned through her veins with a painful intensity and a desperate moan fell into his mouth as it pooled in her stomach.

As much as she’d _love_ to die this way, she didn’t want to die at 14.

One of her hands trailed down from his hair and to his throat where her thumb soon found his Adam’s apple and pushed slightly. When that didn’t work, she increased the pressure until he pulled away and stared at her with dilated eyes.

“I think you just tried to kill me,” she panted through gasps.

The smile she received shouldn’t be legal. “No. I was simply…punishing you.” She pressed against his throat and received another smirk.

“I have to say,” she started demurely with adverted eyes and a pretty pink blush dusted her nose and cheeks, “I think I like this way of punishment much more than the other ways you’ve come up with so far.”

He nuzzled her nose with his own. “As do I, love.”

* * *

_Wednesday, December 13, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“Love?”

Eden looked up from the book on Ancient Battle Magick theory and smiled at Tom. “Yes?”

He smiled gently at her, his eyes narrowed slightly with the action, and a basilisk hatched in her stomach and squirmed around. “I found a Ritual that we can do together that will be beneficial for you. Its main purpose is to Cleanse the Core from unnatural stresses. It takes anywhere from fifteen minutes to twelve hours to perform. But, despite that, it will only require about four days of prep since all we have to do is Charge the Crystals.”

A smile stretched her lips. “That seems like it could be very useful. When will we be doing it?”

“After everyone leaves for Yule holidays.”

* * *

_Thursday, December 14, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

“Tom?”

“Yes?” His voice wasn’t as tired as hers, as he’d just finished studying a few minutes ago. Her eyes were closed and her head rested on his chest.

Every night before he fell asleep they snuggled, and she allowed herself to fall into a state of half-consciousness until he was in a deep sleep, and then she’d get up and read—now if only she could turn her brain off, everything would be perfect.

“How long do you think I’ve been here? I mean—how much time do you think has passed in my time?”

He was silent for so long, she began to think that he’d fallen asleep. “I don’t know, love,” he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Why do you ask?”

She shook her head. “Just curious. What are we going to do now that we have the whole castle to ourselves?”

He placed a kiss against the side of her nose. “Well, we have to share it with seven other students and four professors. I haven’t really thought about it yet other than the Ritual.”

Eden placed a kiss against his mouth. “M’kay,” she whispered.

She pulled away, only to have him bring her back and kiss her again. He licked his way into her mouth and wrapped his tongue around hers. He eased it into his mouth and sucked on it before he nipped the tip, wrapped his tongue around the ache, and then repeated the action a few more times. Fire flooded her veins, and when his hand landed on the skin just below her right breast, she reluctantly—but quickly—pulled away.

He immediately removed his hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I apologize,” he whispered desperately.

She pressed a kiss to his cloth covered collar bone and pressed her head above his beating heart and listened to the rapid pace that matched her own. “It’s alright,” she whispered. “Sleep.”

“Only if you stay.”

“I’m staying.”

* * *

_Friday, December 15, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

Eden wrestled her way out of his grasp.

She had long since come to the Very Correct Conclusion—in her opinion—that Tom Marvolo Riddle was just a very bossy and sadistic koala bear in disguise. Once free, and sure that he wouldn’t wake, she quietly moved to the couch where she proceeded to summon his fourth year potions book—it was different from the one they used in her time.

When a familiar pain blossomed in her right elbow, she looked up at the clock and noted with disinterest that it was right on time at 2:18 AM. The other four injections quickly followed, and once the medi-wizard’s light—and slightly off-key—humming faded away, healed the lightly bleeding wounds.

She had learned early on that if she healed the injection sites immediately—while whoever had administered the potions was there in the room—more tests would be done. And those tests usually involved her blood being drawn so they could examine her Core that way—why they didn’t just Scan it was beyond her. With the blood being drawn, that meant more pain, and despite what Tom constantly—well, no longer constantly—inferred, she was most definitely _not_ a fan of pain, _thank you_ very much.

She stared at her elbow for a moment longer before she turned back to the book and continued to read about the _Elixir of Death_—it was similar to the _Draught of the Living Death_, only it wore off on its own (if one was familiar with Potion’s History, they would know that the _Elixir of Death_ actually was the predecessor of the _Draught of the Living Death)_. There were theories that it was the potion that Juliet took in the biography _Romeo and Juliet _written by a half-blood wizard by the name of William Shakespeare.

She was pulled out the fascinating biography that she had summoned immediately after reading about the Elixir—it was written like poetry, something she hadn’t expected _at all_—when pain bloomed in her right wrist.

Her heart pounded as her mind swam in a suffocating sea of violent confusion as she looked to the clock and just barely registered that it was 3:39 AM—the time was almost as concerning as the location of the injection that she was receiving.

The pain lasted longer than the usual injection, and the hole that the potion—_whatever_ it was—entered her was larger too.

She tried not to panic when blood started to well on her small wrist.

She clenched the book in her hands and wrinkled the parchment when the blood started to drip to the left.

She bit her tongue when it dripped off of her wrist and onto her thigh.

She stopped trying to fight the crippling panic that begged to choke her when an unpleasant heat started to spread in her veins. As the heat grew painful, her magic ripped out of its confines and started to snap around her in a painful haze.

The pain quickly grew to be unbearable as the blood that dripped off of her wrist increased in frequency and began to thin.

Just as she was about to cry out for Tom, the pain ended.

Her body spasmed.

Her head lulled back against the couch.

The book slipped out of her hands and onto the carpet with a quiet thud.

Her ears rang.

Her teeth bit her tongue as she tried to cry out for help.

Something hot trailed down her cheek, and in some distant part of her mind, she realized it was a tear.

_I’m so sorry, my daughter…my princess. But, it’s for your own good._

Her eyes slipped closed.

She knew nothing but inky black sleep.

* * *

_Saturday, December 16, 1944_

_ Black Lake_

“What was that?”

She turned on her transfigured socks—they were now ice skates—and looked at Tom. Her left brow was furrowed and her head was tilted slightly as she skated backwards—Merlin, she was beautiful. “What was what?”

He surged forward and placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close. She smiled sleepily at him and yawned. “That.”

“What?”

“You just yawned.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You just did it again. Are you alright?”

She blinked a few times and rubbed one of her eyes, as if she were trying to wake up, or keep herself from falling asleep before she smiled brightly at him. Worry ate at him when he saw the artificial tint to it.

“I’m fine. I’m just…a little…worn out, I guess. I haven’t really slept since the Task. I guess it’s just finally catching up to me.”

He heard the desperation—they _both_ felt the lie.

It smelt like fire, tasted like ash, and touched his heart with molten pricks of pain.

“Besides,” she continued in an artificial bright tone, “we’ve done a lot of stuff today. Let’s not worry about it, it’s probably nothing. I’ll get my energy back soon.”

He didn’t think she would. For the last few days she’s been more lethargic, got hit more during training, and dazed out more. Something was happening, and he didn’t know what, and it _terrified_ the bloody bits of Hell out of him—it was part of the reason he had delayed the Ritual. He didn’t know how it would affect her with her suddenly like this, and he _refused_ to take any chances.

Eden took one of his tense hands in her own and pulled him into a large, spinning loop that had the two of them laughing almost maniacally—both were trying to erase the facts that were clearly being laid out in front of them (and the fact that she lied to him).

They skated for quite a while longer and the cloudy sky slowly darkened until heavy snowflakes finally drifted around them. “Tom!” she squealed as she pulled him to a stop. “Can we do something disgustingly cliché?”

He smiled charmingly down at her. “It depends on both what it is, and _how_ disgustingly cliché it is.”

“Kiss me.”

He lifted an amused brow. “How is that cliché?”

“It’s kind of a big romantic thing to kiss when it’s raining, or snowing, and…” she trailed off and her cheeks and nose flushed a deeper red than they already were. “I’ve kind of always wanted to do it.”

He smiled and his eyes warmed. “Well then,” he grabbed her hand and pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist. “All you had to do was ask.”

He tilted his head down, bumped her nose twice, and pressed his lips against hers in a soft kiss that made her want to weep.

When they pulled away and nuzzled each other’s noses, Eden realized she was falling just as fast for Tom as the snowflakes fell from the sky around them. Only, she felt she was tumbling through space at unimaginable speeds, rocketing towards a small target.

She only hoped that he would be there to catch her.

* * *

_Sunday, December 17, 1944_

_ Head Dorms_

Eden blinked and desperately tried to keep from yawning as Tom nuzzled her neck in his sleep.

_Healer Michaels! Healer Michaels!_

_What? What is it?_

_The Magical Coma—it’s Deteriorating!_

_What!? _

It was silent before she suddenly heard multiple pairs of frantic footsteps run around the room her body was in.

_Run tests. As many as you can!_

_Hurry!_

There were voices she had never heard before, and she yawned.

_…not much time…too fast._

_… shit…run the tests…immediately. _

_Quickly!_

_Move! _

_Now, dammit!_

There were so many voices that she hadn’t heard before, and it seemed like multiple people were in charge.

_Understood, Healers._

_I…results!_

_What…_

_The Coma…Deteriorating, but…magic...failing..._

_What is it? …it out, dammit!_

_…unknown…days._

_…call the…_

It was silent for a few minutes.

_We don’t know…shield…Deteriorating. _

_…_no one…_woken…_

_…about to die…shield…breaks._

_Healer…_

_…no more…time…know…soon._

_…potion…fatal?_

_…fatal…_

_No! Not my cub!_

_Not my pup—_

_No! _

_…survive…_

_Not likely…_

Tom woke when arms wrapped tightly around him. She was curled around him and desperately tried to keep her eyes open—they’d close for a few seconds, and then she’d jerk before they opened again.

“I don’t want to wake up,” she whispered fearfully. His heart throbbed and he ran his fingers through her hair.

“You need to though,” he urged, just as desperate. He had seen the grayness her skin had taken on after they finished skating. “Those potions won’t keep you alive for much longer, Eden. _Please_…you’ll see me again soon. You always do.”

“What if they keep me at St. Mungo’s, and then send me home? What if they won’t let me go back to Hogwarts?”

They had been over this before, but, it seemed like she used it to hide something. “They have to, love. The Tournament, remember?”

It was the first and probably only time that he would ever be grateful for the event.

Her eyes fluttered closed before she forced them open with a jerk once more. “Don’t make me go, Tom,” she begged, clearly close to tears.

He pressed a kiss to her lips and then to each eye—he ignored the salt on his lips. “I’m not making you go, little one. But, if you must go, remember that you will see me again in a few short days if they do keep you over night.”

She sleepily nodded her head and gazed at him with drugged eyes. “Tom…” she whispered just after her eyes slid closed.

“My Eden.”

She faded away slower than she ever had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i got a fancy little wake up call this morning. I found out that In My Dreams has been stolen. I found who did it, and I think I've taken care of it, but, if it happens again, I'm done. If fanfiction doesn't take the copy down, I'm done. At least, that's what my parents think I should do. I love this story so much, and I love you guys and all of the inspiration you give me... I just....as my mom described to me earlier while I was having a mental breakdown, having something like this stolen is like being mentally raped (i don't think it's that extreme but, it's pretty debasing)
> 
> I'll give this one more shot. If it gets posted to one more site, without my explicit permission, I'll take care of it, and continue posting, but after that, if it happens again, In My Dreams will be altered completely and posted as an original work without all of it being posted as a fanfiction as originally planned. I'll leave what I have of it up, but mark it as discontinued.
> 
> I'm so devastated, and it never occurred to me that it would be stolen, and it's so hard. That's why the note is a little harsh. I'm sorry for that.
> 
> I'm sorry, and I hope you can support me in my decision, and respect my work.
> 
> Love you guys.


	17. 16 Wake Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my apology for the last author's note.

_Tuesday, January 31, 1995_

_ Healer Ezera Michaels Office_

Ezera Michaels stared at the data sheets in front of him, and not for the first time, wondered why he had been given Noah Potter as a patient.

In some distant—okay, _not_ so distant—part of his mind palace, he knew it was due to his training under multiple muggle Neurologists, surgeons, and an Intensivist doctor who inspired his want to be a healer in the first place—his mother. All of that didn’t include all of his Magical training, which was just as impressive as his muggle training.

He was 49 years old, and he had seen _a lot_ of shit in his life, both in the muggle hospitals he was occasionally call in to help at, and his main job, St. Mungo’s—seriously, what did some of those auror’s _do_? But…despite everything he had seen under his wand or knife…_nothing_ could have prepared him for the absolute _destruction_ he had witnessed that horrible day in November.

He had always seen the _aftermath_ of a dragon attack.

Never had he actually _seen_ a dragon attack.

He was lucky on multiple accounts. The first was that he had a Neutral Light Gray Core. While Neutral Magic and Gray Magic were essentially the same things, Neutral spells could be cast on _all_ Core types, and Gray spells could only be cast on those that fit the spectrum of the Gray type. For example, Dark Gray types could cast on Dark type Cores. The same went for Light Gray types.

The second reason he was lucky was the fact that Albus Dumbledore had allowed outside spectators—who either didn’t have someone competing or a student _at_ Hogwarts—to be at the First Task.

Not many of his co-workers knew he was there, as they had all thought—like they always did when he wasn’t at St. Mungo’s—that he was either at home or a muggle hospital. The second that he had seen people flooding the Arena and the girl, he had summoned his healer robes and had fought his way in—his fellow healers aiding him.

Perhaps _that_ was why she was made his patient.

He looked at the numbers and words written in obscure Latin phrases once more before he groaned as he pushed his hands into his eyes.

It made no _sense_.

Time and time again, Noah had defied _all_ logic, _all_ research, and _all_ of the basic laws of _nature_. At this point in the Magical Coma, she should be a sack of skin and bones, and possess barely more magic than a squib—although, if he considered the size of her Core before she fell in to the Coma, at this point in time, she should be equal to that of a first year Core.

Instead, since that day nine weeks ago, her Core had almost _doubled_ in size, her body had grown muscles that came from specialized workouts—mainly intense dueling (which he did two hours of every morning) and climbing (which his muggle nephew did for a living)—and while she was a little too thin, she was _healthy_.

He looked to the books piled high on the desk that had been brought in a month ago due to the lack of space, and scowled at the answers they contained that either didn’t apply to Noah, or didn’t apply to the situation.

Honestly, if he didn’t need them—because despite being mostly useless with Noah, they were useful for some other things—he’d light them on fire, and perform a Prayer Ceremony to Lord Erif.

“Ezera?”

His glare softened, and smiled tiredly at his wife who stood in the doorway. “Yes, love?”

“I found something that might explain Miss Potter’s situation.”

He pushed away from his desk, opened his arms, and she immediately moved to sit in his lap. He pressed a kiss first to the Mark behind ear, and then the one on her neck, and then to her cloth-covered shoulder. “It’s not going to break any of your Vows, is it?”

She smiled softly at him and shook her head before she placed a soft, tired kiss to his lips. It appeared his wife had had as much sleep as he had—which was absolutely _none_ in the last 48 hours (Magical Coffee was his friend—cue mental and more than slightly psychotic smile). “No, I did this outside of the Department.” She handed the book to him and his head tilted to the side as he read the title.

“_Ancient Healing Magick’s_? I don’t think this will help the Coma—”

She cut him off with another kiss. “Just read it. I’d explain more, but I just stopped by before work.”

He frowned. “You don’t typically work in the Dream Chamber.”

They had approached dangerous territory.

“You’re right, I don’t. Something came up and I have to go in.” Her speech was slow as she thought about what she could say, and every few words she’d pause as the black choker around her neck would tighten and flash warningly at her—it was meant to protect and keep Unspeakable’s from saying things that would end up with their Vows literally strangling them to death before any Secrets got out.

He didn’t know what she did at the Department of Mysteries, which was fine. She didn’t understand most of what he did. All she knew was that he helped people, and all he knew was that she researched Magic.

It was good enough for them.

“Stay safe.”

“You too.” He pressed a quick, but deep, kiss to her lips before she ran out of his office in a whirlwind of perfume and magic.

He laughed softly before he turned to the tome she had brought him. Halfway through the large, and decrepit book was a torn piece of parchment, and he opened it up to that page and began to read.

_Medela Aer Grandis_

_Class: Pure Neutral_

_Magic’s Used: Dark Magick, Blood Magick, Aether Magic(k)_

He whistled low.

_Core Types Able to Cast Safely—Pure Neutral, Dark Light Gray, Dark Neutral, Dark Gray, Dark, and Pure Dark._

_Languages Used: Tongue of the Ancients, Tongue of the Aspects, Olde Latin, Latin._

He whistled again.

_Characteristics—_

“Healer Michaels! Healer Michaels!”

He flinched, dropped the book open on his desk, and ran across the hall.

_Room 2201 Intensive Care Patient: Noah E. Potter_

He slid on the polished marble floor and grabbed onto the door frame and stared at the first-year healer—he cursed the fact that he was terrible with names.

“What? What is it?”

The man gestured wildly to the girl on the bed with the syringe full of Wide-Eye Potion and a three-foot-long needle.

Ezera immediately saw the cause of concern.

“The Magical Coma—it’s Deteriorating!”

Indeed, it was.

For the last eight weeks, Noah had been surrounded by a thick, semi-opaque shield made of her own magic that rejected anything Magical from crossing it—thus the reason for the long needles, and the fact that fifteen witches and wizards needed to be taught how to give a shot (that had been a _Fun_ day—he still had nightmares).

But now…. Now there were _holes_ in the shield.

“What!?” Behind him, parchments fluttered to the floor as a medi stepped into the room with four more syringes in her hands, and the needles in a sterile bubble above her head—it often took two, sometimes three, people to get the Magically altered needles through the shield (it had been a happy day when they figured out how to Mask the Magical Signature on the metal—needles were easier than Elemental Magick anyways—and they were _guaranteed_ to work in the shield).

He lifted his wand, and the spells linked to the room and the other healers who had been called in from around the world—those who had _experience_ with a Magical Coma—and the medies who had been assigned to Noah’s day-to-day care that week, flashed a bright blue and purple before they settled into a deep, blood red.

The sound of Emergency Apparation filtered into the room from his office. He poked at the solid portions of the shield and was shocked, like usual, but it didn’t leave his entire body numb like usual—it was just his finger, and it was already fading (not usual). Footsteps quickly thundered into the room, and as the healers and medies crossed the Quarantine Ward, the blood red tone their skin had taken on faded.

The woman who had classified what a Magical Coma _was_, Clarrisse Selwyn, stepped forward and stood next to him, and poked at one of the holes. She made it an inch into the shield before black magic cracked at her finger like a forked lightning bolt.

She turned to the seven medies in the room as the three other healers stood behind her waiting for instruction—as soon as she gave the initial command, the rest of them could figure out what to do.

“Run tests. As many as you can.”

She stepped back and gave him control—as he was the main healer. He stepped into the center of the circle and looked at the medies. It was game time. “Run the tests that you’ve done before.”

No one moved, and then the healers behind him snapped.

“Hurry!”

“Move _dammit_!”

“Now!”

They assumed the medies understood commands, and Clarrisse pulled Ezera and the two other healers to the side—_why_ was he so bad with names?

“Call her family. The Potters. They need to prepare for a funeral.”

“Are you sure?” the young, third-year healer asked—he thought her name might be something like Emily.

He looked up at the silence, and glared at all of the medies who had stilled upon the suggestion. “What the hell are you doing? Run the tests!”

“But—the—”

“There’s not enough time! It’s Deteriorating too fast!”

Rage fueled him and he stepped towards them as his magic cracked slightly. “I don’t give a _shit_. You will run the tests, and you will give us the results, _immediately_.”

They were frozen.

“Quickly!”

“Now, dammit!” the usually very calm Clarrisse snapped.

They were all sufficiently cowed “Yes, healers.”

They moved back into their circle. “Are you sure that that’s the only possible solution?”

Clarrisse frowned for a moment. “Until we get the results back, yes. Nothing good ever happens from the shield Deteriorating.”

“I’ve got the results!”

“What are they?”

“The Coma is indeed Deteriorating, but, her magic levels are staying strong and not failing—”

“They’re growing!” a young witch exclaimed as she pulled her wand back after a yelp—looks like they still couldn’t touch their wands to _any _part of the shield.

“But sir,” another medi started. He trailed off and shuffled his feet as shame crossed his face as he looked at the parchment in his hands once more. The other medies crowded around him, and the same look crossed their own faces.

“What? What is it?”

“Spit it out!”

“Look, I know you’re all scared,” Clarrisse started softly, “we are too; but we need to know what results that parchment has on it if we’re going to be able to save Miss Potter’s life.”

One of the medies lips wobbled and she stepped away as she covered her mouth. Her shoulders started to shake as she began to softly cry—she had gone to school with Noah, if he remembered correctly…Anna, right? After a moment of silence, she turned back and spoke. “There’s…. There’s an unknown potion Attached to her Core. From…from…. From the results…it’s been there for days.”

Clarrisse and Ezera took deep breaths as the meaning crashed down upon them. He turned to the other healers in the room behind him. “Summon Master Snape. While you’re at it call the Malfoy’s, Blacks, and Lupin.”

“What about the Potters?” Clarrisse hissed softly.

He shook his head. “They could be one of the ones who gave it to her. They’re the only ones other than me to have access to apparate directly into this room, while the others don’t. You know very well how the Potter’s feel about Dark Magic…besides, that’s all without considering the Core Change that she had.”

The woman’s eyes tightened, and she nodded her head. A few minutes later, Lord and Lady Malfoy, Lord and Lady Black, Remus Lupin, and Master Severus Snape were allowed into the room as a smaller Quarantine Shield bubbled around them.

“What’s going on?” Lord Black demanded softly after he looked to his goddaughter.

He took a deep breath. This was one of his least favorite parts of the job. “The Magical Coma is Deteriorating,” he said softly. He glanced over his shoulder and was pleased to see that the seven medies were running tests with the help of the other two healers while he and Clarrisse informed her family.

“What do you _mean_ ‘Deteriorating’?” Lord Malfoy snarled, “you told us that _no one_ has _ever_ woken up from a Magical Coma before.”

Clarrisse spoke up. “That is true. As you know, I am the most knowledgeable on the subject of Magical Coma’s. Before I tell you this, you need to know that I would _never_ do anything to hurt someone my son cares so deeply about.” They nodded. “Despite me having more knowledge than most, not much is _truly_ known about them. One thing that _is_ known for sure, is that when a witch or wizard who is in a Magical Coma is about to die…the shield around them breaks because their magic had depleted, can no longer support it, and can no longer Replenish itself.”

Lady’s Black and Malfoy’s faces crumpled before they wrapped their arms around each other and held tightly as sobs shook their bodies.

“So…she’s dying?” Lupin whispered.

“We don’t know. What we do know is that someone gave her a potion. We don’t know the effects of it, the origin, or the purpose of it. All that is known about it at the moment is that it’s been Attached to her Core for days,” she explained bluntly.

“For now, the only thing that we can be sure of is that the shield in Deteriorating.”

“Healer Michaels.”

He turned and a parchment was shoved into his hands by a red-eyed medi.

_72% Deteriorated. Expected 20 minutes._

His eyes rapidly scanned the Latin a few more times before he handed it to Clarrisse. “I apologize, but there can be no more visitors. We don’t have time to explain what we’re going to be doing, or keep you updated on whatever is going on with Miss Potter. What I can say, is that we _will_ know if she will wake up soon. Master Snape, I ask that when she is awake, that you examine the potion.”

He bowed his head. “With pleasure,” he sneered.

The medies began to usher them out of the room, and Mariea Black stopped in the doorway, her dark, caramel skin wet with tears. “Wait! The potion…is it fatal?”

The medi in charge of getting them out shook her head. “We don’t know if it’s fatal or not. I apologize, but you really must leave now.

Ezera tugged on the Magic in the room, and the Quarantine Ward shoved the six guests out fully.

He heard their wails from outside, but paid no mind to the pleading to the Olde gods as he began to run his own tests with Clarrisse and the other healers while the medies stood by.

* * *

_Wednesday, February 1, 1995_

_ Room 2201 Intensive Care Patient: Noah E. Potter_

“Healer Michaels?”

Anna-Maria swallowed and bit back her tears. She needed to know, as much as she didn’t _want_ to know.

“Yes?”

“Is…Is there a chance that she won’t survive?”

The man looked up from the parchments he and Healer Selwyn had been scanning for the last five minutes with a small smile. The woman next to him shook her head. “That’s not likely.”

A soft pop of Magic, and the shield was gone.

“It appears she’s waking up.” 

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Jordan Stone was a first year medi-witch, and she both loved and hated her job.

It was in that moment, that she couldn’t decide _what_ she felt about it. Her hands ached as she rung her fingers together and gnawed on her cheek.

_Please wake up,_ she mentally chanted.

It was 12:42 AM, and the shield had been gone for the last 35 minutes. They had all decided to leave her be, and let Noah Potter wake up on her own—that is, if she _would_ wake up.

She exchanged a worried glance with Hector Smith and gnawed on her lip as she saw the same worry reflected in his eyes. The Quarantine Ward cast a disgusting light on everything in the room, and made Hector’s teeth appear red as he tried to smile reassuringly at her.

Her fingers caught on her engagement ring, and nearly broke her finger when she flinched at a soft sigh behind her. She quickly turned and took a step towards the teenager as something Dark and tight in the air threatened to choke them all, and light the world on fire. She took another step forward, and just barely heard the murmured ‘Tom’ before emerald green eyes were opened.

Healer’s Michaels, Selwyn, Jones, and Zepherson crowded around the other side of the bed as her fellow medies stood next to and behind her.

“You’re awake,” Jordan whispered in awe.

Confusion ate at her soul when Magical Tears crowded the teen’s eyes—a clear sign of a Core Expansion (her Core had grown and her body had Adjusted to it while in the Coma, but it was clear that her mind had _not_ Adjusted yet)—and then fell down her face, a thick black trail left in their wake—yes, her mind was overwhelmed.

Jordan’s confusion only grew when the Tears continued to fall, and grow clearer with every drop as her vast amounts of magic began to snap around the room. A choked sob left the girls lips as she lifted shaky hands and pressed them to her eyes.

Cuts appeared on everyone’s skin, even Noah’s, as her magic grew more and more erratic.

“I don’t want to be,” she eventually gasped out as her small body shook from the Strain as her mind tried to Adjust to her new Core.

And then, Noah Potter’s Core exploded, and everything went dark when her head hit the wall ten feet behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you guys liked it. :) 
> 
> If I split this into two books would you still read it? The reason I ask, is because I have something that I have named Second-Book Syndrome, where I usually can only read the first book in a series, but, if it's all one book then I can read it. So...are any of you like that too? Should I just keep it as one fic?


	18. 17 Confirmations and Calculations

_Wednesday, February 1, 195_

_ Hallway of St. Mungo’s_

“I thought she was in a different room.”

“She was.”

“What happened?”

“Her Core exploded.”

“What? That can happen?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How does it happen? _Why_ does it happen?”

“It happens whenever someone’s Core grew so much, that their mind could no longer control it when they are in a heightened state of emotion. She had just woken up from the Coma, had admitted that she didn’t _want_ to be awake, when it exploded. I hear that there were clear signs of an eminent Lash-Back, yet no one in the room did anything.”

“Why not?”

Anna-Maria stepped out from around the corner. “You need to understand, that we were all prepared to bury her this morning before her Core exploded. It was quite the shock to see her awake and alive.” She leaned against the wall and continued to listen to the conversation. “Well, go on. I’ll help straighten some things out.”

“You’re injured.”

“Yes. Please, continue with your prior conversation.”

“Is it true that all of the medies assigned were injured?”

“Yes. The only people in fact who _weren’t_ injured was Healer Selwyn and Healer Michaels. Next.”

“Did her Core exploding really destroy the room?”

“Yes, that’s why she’s in this room.”

“Is she alright?”

Anna-Maria smiled—the first in a long time. “Yes. She’s fine, mostly. After her mind Adjusted to her new Core size, everything normalized. When a Core explodes, its not really that dangerous to the witch or wizard who it belongs to. It’s just an extreme way to Recognize and Adjust to a Core size, but it’s also the quickest way.”

“What about Containment Orbs?”

“It doesn’t allow for the mind to Recognize the Core size, only Adjust and Control.”

She pushed off the wall and opened the door. She gestured for the medies to be quiet and ignored the four healers currently grilling Little Eden on every little thing. “Woah,” one whispered, “that’s a huge Containment Orb.”

Anna-Maria closed the door. “Yes, it’s to help her Core Stabilize without exploding again.”

“I thought she had Stabilized.”

“No, she had Adjusted. They’re not the same thing. It’s still in a very heightened state of emotion.”

“Is it too big?”

“We think so. We figured bigger was better in this case.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’d rather Drain her slightly than have her explode again.”

“I hope she’ll be alright.”

“Me too.”

_Room 2204 Intensive Care Patient: Noah E. Potter_

Eden was unaware of how long she laid there and stared at the ceiling while countless tests were done.

Apparently she could be touched now—for some reason, they couldn’t touch her while she was in the Coma, and they refused to even tell her what the difference between a Magical Coma and a non-Magical Coma was (from what she could gather, it wasn’t an unnatural Coma either)—and that meant tests.

Lots, and lots of tests.

She knew her family had been called because she could her the frantic shouts of Sirius, Remus, and Mariea as they tried to get into the room. Sometimes she swore she could hear Snakey-Snape in the background as he told them to be quiet, and even rarer did she hear Narcissa and Lucius. She wasn’t entirely sure of exactly _who_ was there.

After hours of tests, and a couple more hours of isolation—she could feel a spell on the far wall though (she knew she was being observed)—Healer Michaels stepped into the room. He was younger than he sounded, and was extremely fit—he probably either played Quidditch or was in one of the dueling clubs that had recently become popular.

“Hello, Noah—Eden, I apologize. How are you feeling?” he asked softly after he sat on a twisting stool that she desperately wanted to sit and spin on.

“I’m okay, actually. I’m a little tired, but, other than that I feel fine. Is everything alright? What’s the difference between a coma and a Magical Coma?”

“Oh yes, yes, you’re perfectly healthy. Although, while you made a fantastic recovery something…odd…happened while you were asleep.”

She wanted to hex him for ignoring her question and her magic ate at a large black sphere in the corner of the room. And then the words registered. Her magic thickened in the air and continued its feast—the man didn’t look particularly concerned (in fact, he looked quite pleased).

“What do you mean?”

_Please don’t bring up the hickey. Please, please, _please_, don’t bring up the hickey._

“Well, when most people fall into a coma—Magical and non-Magical—their body starts to deteriorate along with their magic. You, however, not only lost all of the fat on your body—you gained the lost weight, and then some _back_, due to muscle growth. Your magic also increased while you were in the Coma—” he paused, as if he wanted to say something before he decided against it. “Your magic, as you can feel, is going over to that sphere. When the Coma broke, it had some…effects that we didn’t consider. That is there to prevent any more injuries.”

“What—”

“Anyways, I’d say that you are healthier _now_ than you were _before_ you fell into the Coma. It’s a miracle, and completely unheard of. I have no idea as to how it happened.”

Eden looked down and lifted her arms to indeed see muscles that certainly weren’t there before she had woken up. “May I go to the bathroom?” she asked softly. Her hands pressed against her now firm stomach. The healer nodded with understanding in his eyes and faster than she thought she should have been able to, made her way to the bathroom.

Once the door was closed and locked, she tore off the hideous hospital clothes and stared at her nude body. The first thing she noticed besides the long, jagged scar—that was permanently irritated—that she’s had for forever on her chest, were the six, small, defined planes on her stomach. They were noticeable, but they didn’t look out of place or too masculine.

What little curves on her hips that she had started to gain since the start of puberty were gone, and she could see each of her ribs poking out from under her slightly loose skin—not much of a difference from before, but they were _definitely_ more noticeable.

Her arms and legs both had lines of muscle along them that were new, but yet again, didn’t look too muscly or masculine. When she turned and pulled her greasy hair that had grown three inches while she was in the Coma—_surprise, surprise_ (it touched her butt now—squeal!)—to the side, her shoulder blades were sharply defined along with other muscles in her back.

She turned and looked at herself from the side and she was disappointed to see that what little breast tissue she had had before, was almost practically gone—at least she didn’t _have_ to wear a bra anymore (she probably would though—if she found one that fit (did they even _make_ bras that small?)).

She looked like a twelve year old.

She scowled at her chest and butt, disappointed that they had shrunk, but overall pleased with how she looked everywhere else. She was sure once she was able to put on a little more weight—be it muscle or fat (those ribs_ needed_ to go)—she would be the happiest with her body that she had ever been.

Finally, she raised her eyes to her face, and physically drew back, and almost tripped over her own two feet and into the shower. All of the puppy fat that had clung to her face—which wasn’t much, admittedly, but still—had indeed disappeared. Gone were the chubby cheeks, and in their place were high, sharp cheekbones with slight hollows, and a sharp jawline that ended in a delicate, and slightly pointed chin. Her nose had stayed thin with a slight upturn, and her lips were the same fullness as before.

While her body looked like it belonged to a first year, her face belonged to someone who had just finished their schooling.

She stepped numbly into the shower—the first she’s taken/been given (evidently sponge-baths were a thing) since the Task (apparently, that was over 2 months ago). She stood underneath the tepid water with her head tilted up to allow the cool warmth to cascade over her face and down her body—her _new_ body.

She thoroughly washed when things appeared on the shelves in the shower, and after washing for nearly an hour—she wanted to be sure she was _clean_—she cast a wandless drying charm on her hair and body. She pulled on a new set of awful and itchy hospital robes and stepped out of the bathroom.

Only to be tackled to the floor by Padfoot and the Albino Peacock.

She endured the rapid licking, wagging of the dog’s _entire_ body, desperate whines, squawks, and pecking of her hair and fingers for exactly 2 minutes and 37 seconds before she pushed the large dog off and the bird away and sat up. Sirius immediately had her in his arms, and Lucius quickly stole her and carried her to the bed where he, Sirius, Mariea, Narcissa, and Remus proceeded to smother her in snuggles in the far too small hospital bed.

“Sev said sorry that he couldn’t be here, but, he had to go back to teach class. He’ll come as soon as he can though,” Uncle Remus informed her before he began to smother her once more.

About fifteen minutes after the five frantic adults had settled down—and that took at _least_ thirty minutes—and as Eden asked about things that she had heard about in the Coma, her birth family walked in.

“So, you’re awake,” Lily stated coolly. Her arms were crossed over her chest as her eyes stared at her with barely restrained hatred and disappointment.

“Nope. This is your imagination. You are having the most pleasant of dreams.”

She scoffed and finally looked away. “More like a nightmare.”

Sirius and Remus both growled and Lily only stayed alive due to Eden and Mariea—and they only did it so the two men wouldn’t get tossed into Azkaban. Lucius and Narcissa stared at her birth mother with their Masks perfectly in place, but Eden could see in that in their eyes, Lily would soon pay for that comment.

Eden finally turned her gaze to her twin, and faltered when she saw the relief and indecision in his eyes—he’d go back to hating her when the week was up (oh how that knowledge _ached_).

“The three of you can leave now,” she said through a strangely tight throat. “You’ve made your appearance, the tabloids have been sated, now I want you to leave. I’d like to spend time with my _real_ family without…_you_ intruding on us.” She refused to look at her brother as she spoke.

The three stared at her—Leif's scorched the most—before they turned on their heels and walked out.

Snakey-Snape arrived an hour later, and the smothering began once more.

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Later that night, after Eden fell asleep, she was disappointed to see nothing of worth as she slept.

_Location Undisclosed_

He took a deep breath before he pushed the creaky door open and stepped slowly into the room. “Ah, welcome back, my friend,” a sibilant voice hissed from the armchair in front of the roaring fire,

He bit his tongue to prevent the sneer from showing as he knelt in front of the once-man and kissed the edge of the blanket. “My Lord,” he said softly, nothing of his inner turmoil given away.

“Tell me, did the potion work?”

“Yes. She’s awake and healthy, just as you Promised she would be.” His hands shook as he sat in the armchair across from him. “Thank you,” he said it partially because it was expected, but mostly because he truly was grateful to the man-thing in front of him.

Why was he here again?

“You’re welcome. I am glad it worked.” There was something akin to relief in his voice.

It made him worry.

He had been Promised that the potion would save her, but he had been skeptical because he had no idea if it had been brewed on instructions that were based on theory alone, or if it had been tested before.

The emotion in the typically annoyed or frustrated voice didn’t make him feel better, or give him more knowledge on if he illegally tested a potion on her.

“Anyways…you will keep your side of the bargain, yes?”

He swallowed. “Of course. I am a man of my word.”

“I’m sure you are…. Now, here is what you must do…”

Later, when he left, he was stopped at the door. “Remember, my friend, your daughter’s life is at stake here. Her life is your incentive chip, and my leverage if you do not keep your end of the bargain.”

His throat tightened. 

“I am very well aware of that fact, my Lord.” He barely kept himself from hissing, and left as quickly as he could.

_Room 2204 Intensive Care Patient: Noah E. Potter_

He snuck into the hospital, nodding to the medi-witches and wizards he came across, and then slipped into her room, unnoticed by her. He conjured a chair, and sat next to her bed and held her small hand as she slept.

Guilt burrowed deep into his consciousness as he rubbed a thumb across the scar left from the potion that forced her out of the Magical Coma.

It was all for her.

It’s _all_ done for her.

His daughter.

His precious little princess.

* * *

_Thursday, February 2, 1995_

_ Room 2204 Intensive Care Patient: Noah E. Potter_

Eden was saved from Eternal Boredom when the hospital door opened behind her.

“Finally! Someone to talk to!” She rolled over and sat up and stopped short when she saw Leif in the doorway, a bundle of clothing in his arms and her pearl bag, wand, and the golden egg on top. “Leif,” she greeted, perplexed.

“Hi, Noah.”

“What—what are you doing here?”

He jostled his burden. “Can I come in?”

She blinked multiple times. This is the nicest he had been to her in_ months_. “Uh—sure.” He came in and put the bundle on the bedside table. She immediately reached out for her wand, and tears spilled down her face at finally having _her_ wand. While Tom’s would work for her, it wasn’t _hers_.

She flinched when arms wrapped around her and a weight settled on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “for everything.” She sniffled and wrapped her arms around his waist loosely. “What have the healers said?”

“Everything’s fine. They’re keeping me for observation. I could go back into the Magical Coma, and they want to keep me in a safe place if that happens.”

“Why?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but, apparently they can’t touch me or something…? I don’t know…the information that I got while in the Coma was sketchy at best.” She pulled away from him and grabbed her pearl bag and began to go through it to make sure everything was where she had left it.

Leif nodded. “So…you could hear while you were asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“As far as I know, if someone was talking normally around me, I could hear them.” She looked up at him from the bag, her arm elbow deep. “I know you didn’t visit.”

And how that burned.

Her own brother—her _twin_—didn’t come to visit her, and he had permission. _Draco_ and _Pansy_ visited her. They snuck out of _school_ to visit her. They got _detention_ to visit her. First year Slytherin’s she didn’t even _know_ all that well snuck in to visit her with other Slytherin’s. Her House had lost over _500_ points in order to come visit her—she was sure Snakey-Snape helped them quickly gain all of that back though, or else they’d surely be in the negatives.

And her own brother…

He looked to the ground and toed it with his shoe. “I—”

“_Please_, Leif. Don’t lie to me. I know you chose Lily and Pa—_James_ over me. I expected it, to be honest. I still love you,” she added when he looked up at her. She slipped on her Ring. “I just—I miss you. You’re my big brother. You were _always_ there to comfort me after a beating, and always managed to sneak some food up to me during the lockdowns. It’s been hard…to have you suddenly ignore me, and not help me at school, and all because I’m a Slytherin.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been foolish. That doesn’t matter. You’re my sister first, and a Slytherin second.”

Was that sneer genetic? She sincerely hoped it wasn’t…. How would she look if she looked like she smelt something bad every time she said ‘Slytherin’?

She gave him a tight smile as her heart broke once more—crippled ruptured severed _fractured_.

“_The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb_.”

“What does that mean?”

He brushed away the tear before she could.

“Let me know when you figure it out.”

He recognized the dismissal and left after he placed a kiss on her forehead.

She knew he wouldn’t be back.

(she was right)

* * *

_Saturday, February 4, 1995_

_ Room 2204 Intensive Care Patient: Noah E. Potter_

Healer Emma Jones stepped into the room and immediately paused when she saw the Containment Orb shattered on the ground in the far corner, and something thick, heady, and horrifyingly familiar filled the air.

In a panic, she searched the room, and paused again when she saw Eden Potter. She sat—hovered—2 feet above her bed—in some meditative state if her magic was anything to go by—while she read a large book. If she had to guess, she’d say it was one of the teen’s school books—her professors had been in and out quite a bit since she had woken up.

She wore her own clothing; a deep emerald green short sleeved shirt, that floated around her and showed her stomach, and tight black slacks that at one time must have hugged her thighs in an almost obscene way before they flared slightly at knees—now they were just kind of limp.

Her wand hovered in the air next to her, and she wore many rings, bracelets, and necklaces. When she looked closer, she could see a slight bunching in the girl’s shirt which indicated that she had something on her shoulder that couldn’t be seen.

“Miss Potter.”

Her head snapped up before she smiled brightly at her. “Healer Jones! How are you today?”

“I am doing well, thank you. I’ve come to release you.” The girl perked up and her steady floating became slightly less steady as she started to rise and fall quickly. Her excitement was obvious in the movements and the way the air thickened with her magic—what was she doing with it unBound like that? Did her unBinding it…_break_ the Containment Orb?

No. That’s not possible. She must have done something to it.

(a part of her—her magic—viciously rejected the idea)

“I’m going back to Hogwarts?”

She smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, I believe that you will be kept there in the hospital wing for a few more days just as a precaution—to make sure that you aren’t being pushed too much too soon—before you’re able to attend your classes once more.”

“But—I’m perfectly healthy—see!” She grabbed her wand—oh, how the magic in the room sang and swelled—and did a little lightshow with some type of glowing glitter before she rose and fell at a faster pace—obviously intentionally—before she stood and walked five feet in the air as her head brushed the ceiling.

Wow.

She was only _fourteen_?

“While that is very impressive, Madam Pomfrey has been very concerned.”

The girl deflated before she landed gently on the ground as if she had just descended the last step on a staircase instead of having just free-fallen straight down from her own height. “Fine.”

Healer Jones smiled before she gestured for the girl to follow her.

_Hospital Wing_

After several hours of more tests, had completely unnecessary potions shoved down her throat every five minutes, and a light dinner of broth with some uncomfortably mushy vegetables—they had to work back up to solid foods (apparently that’s what happened when you slept for over nine weeks—Merlin, had it really been _nine_?)—Eden was _finally_ allowed to sleep.

Until her friends decided that they needed to crush all of her hopes and dreams and broke into the hospital wing minutes after she finished eating her food—they had just come from dinner where it had been announced that she was back.

They talked and laughed for hours before Madam P kicked them out with a note two hours after curfew had begun, and gave Eden a potion to help her sleep—not dreamless sleep, thankfully.

She curled on her side and stared at the golden egg—flecked with blood—that sat on the table next to her bed and pondered it as her eyes slowly closed.

It had been four days since she had last seen Tom.

Yet, it felt like a million eternities.

* * *

_Sunday, February 4, 1945_

_ Great Hall_

The familiar sounds of cutlery and the loud chatter of hundreds of students assaulted her ears the moment she fell asleep.

She quickly made herself invisible before she walked up to Tom and gently tugged on his robes. She ran her hand up his back and into his hair. He tensed and dropped his fork with a loud clatter.

Her hands moved down to his shoulders and gently rubbed them. She slid her hands back up his neck and pulled slightly on his hair as she ran her fingers through it and kneaded and the tense skin under her thumbs.

Why was he so tense all of the sudden?

“Tom, are you alright?” Abraxas questioned from his right—she had never noticed that he held the position of Prince before (although it made sense since Tom was the King).

The boy—man—in front of her blinked rapidly and shook his head. “I’m suddenly feeling unwell. If you’ll excuse me.” He stood and she felt his magic wrap tightly—painfully—around her as he quickly made his way from the great hall as the leash made of Pure Magic yanked her along with him.

She caught up to him and grabbed his hand and winced when he grabbed it tightly and felt the bones grind together and his magic wrapped more firmly around her.

_Head Dorms_

The portrait slammed behind them, and they marched towards his room. They both ignored the concerned calls of the Head Girl as his door flung open.

His door slammed shut and silencing wards were put into place. He turned towards her now visible form and rapidly scanned her face. There were too many emotions in his eyes for her to decipher before he pulled her close with a painful grip and captured her lips in a burning kiss.

Her mind went blank as his tongue immediately forced its way into her mouth and started a tantalizing dance that had liquid fire racing in her veins and pooling low in her stomach.

His rough hands trailed down from her back and hair and landed on her butt. She squeaked but followed the silent command and easily wrapped her legs around his waist. He pressed her against the wall and his hands were again on her side and in her hair and pulled painfully as he deepened the kiss to a brutal and painful level.

She tore her lips from his own and gasps left her heaving lungs as his mouth latched onto the skin behind her right ear, the icy nips painful, and the burning licks soothing. He trailed his lips down to her jugular and bit, sucked, licked, and kissed until she was afraid he would break the skin and start sucking her blood.

“Tom,” she moaned.

His lips were back on hers. His teeth bit her lips. His lips sucked on her tongue. His tongue swept every corner of her mouth. Her jaw began to ache and she dug her fingers into his thick brown hair and tugged harshly. He growled and deepened the kiss—it was like he was a starving man, and she was the first meal he had seen in a long time.

She pulled again, and he pressed her into the wall, and she moaned at the feel of him pressed so completely against her. It was only the third time that she pulled on his hair that he finally pulled away. “Tom,” she gasped, “what’s wrong?”

The kisses they had just shared were usually only given in punishment.

“I missed you,” he huffed out. His nose bumped against hers, and he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss that had tears gathered in the corner of her eyes when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. “**I missed you, so_ damn much_**.”

“I was gone only four days,” she said softly and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose; his eyes closed and he nuzzled her cheek for a moment before he pulled away.

He stared into her eyes as if he were desperately looking for something. “No, Eden. You were gone for _seven weeks_.”

She felt as if her stomach had dropped to the deepest part of space. “What?”

“You fell asleep December 17, love. It’s February 4.”

Her eyes widened and she was grateful that Tom still had her pressed against the wall. “The dates line up. I mean we always guessed and assumed—” She met his eyes with her own wide eyes. “I woke up on the first, and they kept me at St. Mungo’s. Today was the first day that they let me back at Hogwarts.”

“I thought something had happened, and you weren’t coming back.” Tom pressed his forehead back against hers.

_I thought a Price had been Paid._

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He adjusted his hold on her and carried her over to his bed where they spent the next hour snuggling, kissing, and talking about what had happened since they had last seen each other.

When the first yawn of the day penetrated their happy bubble nearly four hours after she arrived, they tightened their hold on one another as if that would keep her from leaving. “I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“You have to. Now that you’re back at Hogwarts, you’ll see me every time you sleep again.”

She closed her eyes and he kissed the tear that leaked out before he pressed his lips to hers in a parting kiss.

He sighed when her familiar and comforting weight disappeared, and fought the familiar fear that threatened to overtake him—it had nearly driven him insane in the last seven weeks. She would be back.

She had to come back.

He placed his hand over his heart and sighed once more.

“I love you, Eden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally an 8,200 word monstrosity. I broke it in half because I didn't like that it had two completely different themes in it. Sorry. Hope you liked it anyway.
> 
> If you want to read about Eden's first kiss, go check out the second chapter of In My Memories.


	19. 18 The Golden Egg

_Monday, February 6, 1995_

_ Great Hall_

Eden fought to stand up straight as she laughed loudly and the sound echoed slightly.

She had been let out of the hospital wing mere minutes before and had decided that it would be Great Fun to scare her friends. So she did. She had activated her Ring and quickly made her way to the great hall where she proceeded to scare the living daylights out of them.

“Morgana, you guys should see your faces!” she cackled as she was guided into her seat between Draco and Pansy.

“I thought you weren’t getting out until tomorrow!” Pansy berated her as a bowl of light porridge—more like thin soup (gag)—appeared in front of her.

“Well, when you spend the entire morning with your magic unBound, practicing, running up and down the hospital wing, thus proving that nothing is wrong with yourself, and making a complete and general nuisance of yourself, you tend to get released. Besides, it got so _boring_. I had nothing to do because I got caught up with the homework too fast. I don’t know why I did that. I should have saved the essays for later…”

“How did you do that?”

“You missed _two months_ of school!”

“Well, I could hear you guys in the Coma. Whenever you’d come complain about class and tell me what you learned, I filed that away. Then, when I was stuck in the hospital with nothing else to do, and then the hospital _wing_ with nothing better to do, _and_ being ahead before I fell into the Coma, _and_ the teachers greatly reduced the required amount of assignments…yeah…. Because of all of that, it was quite easy to catch up.”

Her friends stared at her with wide eyes before they started to laugh loudly, their tones bright and happy. It was almost as if they could all forget that one of their closest friends had been in the hospital for over two months.

* * *

_Tuesday, February 6, 1945_

_ Compartment 9—Barren Wasteland_

Eden placed her hand on a rock two feet above her head and pulled herself up.

Her feet quickly found purchase against the smooth rock of the mountain she climbed. The room was set to its usual temperature of 72 degrees, and she wore her usual workout clothes now that she was back at school—kind of.

Narcissa and Mariea had smuggled her out of school on Sunday to take her shopping. They had only gotten the bare necessities—five sets of school robes, and two sets of exercise clothes. While her yoga pants _kind of_ fit, her sports bras most definitely _did not_ fit, and she wasn’t going to risk _anything_ happening while working out with Tom.

Most of her clothes had fit, but, she didn’t like baggy clothes. She felt restricted in them, and feeling restricted while Adjusting to a new Core Size wasn’t the brightest idea—that was the excuse she used when McGonagall had caught them sneaking out and had recognized the animagus on her shoulder (Narcissa had been under an invisibility cloak)

Overall, Eden was quite looking forward to the next Hogsmeade weekend so she’d be able to get some casual clothes, and wouldn’t have to borrow from the hatchlings—first years—anymore.

Sweat dripped down her stomach, and her hair that was pulled into a high ponytail stuck to her back, and no amount shaking her head would dislodge it.

She pulled herself up onto a small ledge, and took a breather. She was grateful that her throat didn’t burn—her lungs burned, but that was normal—and that she could no longer drink because it was too weird to have everything disappear.

“Do I really have to make it to the top?” she asked after a minute of staring at the building currently 1,300 feet above her head—it had taken her nearly two months to get to the point she was at now.

“Yes, love.”

She sighed and lowered her eyes to scan the rock in front of her. She noted with absolutely _no_ amount of happiness that the nearest hand/foot hold was ten feet out of her reach. “I have to use sticking charms to get up there now, don’t I?”

“You’ve grown wise in your old age.”

She snorted—she couldn’t help it. “If _I’m_ old, _you’re_ ancient.”

“Being 36 years old is not ancient!” he quipped defensively. He had started guessing his age in her time a few days ago, and had so far had failed miserably. Even if he did guess correctly, she wasn’t sure she would tell him if he was right or not.

She snorted once more and pressed her hands together; the seam glowed white for a moment before she separated them and placed her hands on the mountain as high as she could reach and pulled herself up. Her toes stuck to the mountain as they touched it—thank you Spaghetti Course (Tom’s research was right, you do it enough, it becomes as natural as breathing)—and she quickly made it to the small hand hold.

“You’re right.” She dropped the sticking charm on her right hand and reached up. “36 _isn’t_ ancient compared to 14.” Her fingers wrapped around the rock, and a sticking charm was placed on her hand once more as the one on her left dropped. She pressed her knees into the mountain in preparation to pull herself up. “Your age, however, _is_.”

He started to sputter, and she lifted herself up.

She was _immediately _grateful that the charm on her feet had become a natural occurrence, because she now hung upside down with the soles of her feet being the only things that kept her neck from being broken. “Tom!” she howled as she thrashed around.

Laughter.

He was _laughing_ at her.

“Merlin dammit, Tom! Help me!” She looked up—down?—and stared at her sock covered feet.

“Do a sit up,” he stuttered through his laughter.

“I want to see _you_ do a sit up like this, you sadistic _bastard_!” she shouted and thrashed around once more. But, even as his laughter continued—she couldn’t help but wonder if he was laughing out loud in front of Dumbles (probably not—if he was it would be ‘coughing’)—she did as suggested.

Her stomach burned along with her thighs and shins, and just as she was about to touch the wall and apply a sticking charm to her hand, severe cramps formed in her legs, hips, and stomach. She gasped at the sudden pain and fell back. Her back slammed into the wall and knocked the breath out of her lungs. She cried out and squirmed to try and get the cramp to stop, only to fail.

The laughter immediately ceased. “Are you alright?”

“No!” she sobbed. She clutched at her burning stomach and thighs—and would have clutched at her shins if she could have—and sobbed loudly. “It hurts! It hurts so much!”

Almost immediately she was off of the mountain and laying on the smooth rock at the base of it. She curled into a ball and desperately tried to stretch herself out—that only made it worse, but she hurt too much to straighten out.

“Eden, what’s wrong?” Her heart warmed slightly at the terror in his voice.

“Cramps,” she gasped.

He muttered a spell she had never heard before—not a rare occurrence—and her muscles instantly relaxed, and continued to relax until she felt like a melted puddle of goo. “Are you alright now?”

“Yeah. How did I get down here?”

“It was something I put in after you got stuck in the canyon.”

“Which time?”

“The fifth time you threatened pirate puns.”

Why the _hell_ hadn’t he used it? She had gotten stuck _at least_ twenty more times after that—granted, she hadn’t gotten in the situation where she had to threaten pirate puns again.

“Oh come now, _me hearty_, you would have liked it and you know it.” She began to feel solid again.

“Do that again and we’re going into the Labyrinth and you’re having an official introduction to Abyss.”

_Clearly_, someone was _not_ amused.

“My heart! You wound me!” she gasped and clutched at her heart with her hands. “But, on a more serious note, thank you.”

“Of course. I can’t bear the thought of spending an eternity listening to pirate puns.” He was silent for a moment. “I also can’t stand to see you hurt.”

“Lies!” she howled. Apparently the little part of her that was _Pure Drama_ had come out to say hello. “You sir, are a _sadist_! You _laugh_ in the face of my pain!”

She could practically feel him roll his eyes. “I may laugh, but I do not find enjoyment in it. Also, did you notice how as soon as I realized you were in _actual_ pain that I helped you?”

She nodded and stared at the charmed ceiling. “I l—” she cut of her words. It was too soon. “I can’t bear to see you hurt either.” They stayed in a comfortable silence until she felt she could sit up and did so. “Should I keep going?”

“If you’re up to it, yes.”

She nodded her head and was back on the small ledge with her head spinning slightly the next moment. Even though that happened every time she stepped into the trunk, she still hadn’t gotten used to it. “That is so weird,” she giggled as she held a hand to her head. She shook it, stood, and began to climb again. This time she put sticking charms on her knees as well and didn’t remove _any_ of the charms until she was sure that whatever she held onto was stable.

If it wasn’t about ten-times harder, she would have just foregone the handholds and would have stuck to the sticking charms. Maybe one day.

“Have you figured anything out about the egg yet?” he asked 300 feet later.

“No,” she sighed and paused. She wiped the sweat out of her face and stared up at the remaining 1,000 or so feet. “Nothing other than the fact that it’s an annoying piece of _shit_. Every time I open it, I feel like my ears are going to bleed, and it has these strange markings on it that I don’t understand and, _bleh_—” She put her hands on her thighs and her forehead against the mountain face. She straightened after a moment, and then continued to climb.

“Perhaps we could put a memory of it in the pensieve and look at it together.”

Eden yawned as she nodded her head and pulled herself up again. “Sounds good. But, we’re going to have to do it tomorrow. I think I’m about to wake up.”

“Alright. I’m proud of how far you got today, my love.”

She grinned and fought desperately to hide her blush. “Thanks.” She quickly climbed another 15 feet to the next ledge. She pulled herself onto it and sat down as she leaned against the base of the mountain.

She closed her eyes, and her body faded from view.

* * *

_Tuesday, February 7, 1995_

_ Slytherin Girls, Fourth Year Dorm—2_

Eden slowly sat up from her bed and rubbed at her aching neck.

She quickly decided that a nice, long, bath was in order due to her burning muscles, and that research could wait a little while—until the next morning, in fact. She opened the hangings and quickly gathered the things she needed out of her Trunk before she closed it and reopened it to the first room.

She straddled the Trunk and was about to climb in when her eyes fell on the egg. Her eyes narrowed before she climbed out of it, grabbed the still slightly bloody egg—she couldn’t wash the blood off (it was almost like it refused to come off)—and descended into the depths of the first room.

_Trunk Bedroom—Bathroom_

After she got only mildly distracted by the huge crystal chandeliers that hung in the bedroom at regular intervals, Eden made her way into the large—maybe too large (_definitely_ too large)—bathroom. While all of the rooms in her Trunk, bar the library had a full bathroom—it had a toilet and sink—she enjoyed the one in her bedroom the most—even though it also confused her.

Inside the bathroom was a large shower area, a deep sunken bathtub in the floor that could easily fit five people and still allow them to float with space between them to the right of the shower, a toilet, a vanity with a fancy chair, and even a couch.

Don’t ask her.

Ask Narcissa and Draco.

She flicked her wand at the tub and twenty of the thirty faucets turned on and started to fill the tub with her preferred temperature of water. She put her change of clothes on the couch—the only thing _she_ used it for (Pansy, Daphne, and Millie all used it for some reason when they were in there—she assumed it was some Pureblood thing)—and quickly stripped out of her long-sleeved boat-necked shirt and yoga pants.

She placed the egg on the floor next to the tub, quickly showered, and took a moment to stare at her body in the floor to ceiling mirror that took up an entire wall before she got into the bath.

She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing so many muscles on her body—and only have _one_ scar (opposed to the hundreds that covered her before). Well, two if you counted the small one on her wrist—she preferred _not_ to think about that one though.

She was by no means overweight or even _chubby_ before the Coma—in fact, she was _still_ suffering from years of malnourishment (but she also suspected that Tom cast a spell to halt her height growth after she had grown two inches between the summer of second and third year, because _no_ amount of nutrition potions helped her grow). Nonetheless, she also didn’t have a completely flat stomach—once she was allowed to have meals with the Malfoy’s more than once a week, she had started to look normal in that respect—and she didn’t have the chiseled facial features that she now had. She hadn’t been as defined as she was now.

She sometimes—often—felt like she had gone from a stick figure to a portrait overnight, even though she knew it was over two months in reality.

She shook her head and took a deep breath before she climbed into the deep, tepid water that now filled the large bath to the brim—the faucets shut off when it’s full. She sunk down until she lay flat on her back and started to float. As she relaxed, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the suggestion Snakey-Snape had given her the prior day.

He had suggested that she Lock a portion of her Core away so she could learn to control it faster since it was taking longer than anticipated for her mind to completely Adjust. It had Adjusted to the point that she wasn’t a danger to herself, or anyone else, but her mind hadn’t Adjusted enough to not lash out when she was scared or in danger.

She had so far sent two Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff first year, two Ravenclaw third years, and seventeen Slytherin’s of varying years to the hospital wing because they’d startled her.

She had read up on Locking her Core away and saw the benefits, but she also saw the drawbacks. The benefits of doing so would increase her control, and she could even take it down to the size it was before the Coma, and it would even increase her aptitude for certain things. It would also not only give her greater control over her magic, but her emotions as well.

However, the main drawbacks to expanding her Core were almost enough to cause her to forgo the entire _idea_ of it.

The first was that it took _a lot_ of magic to Lock even a small percentage of the Core away, and would take _days_ to recover—and she needed to Lock a little over half of it away to get it to the point it was _before_ the Coma (she had had a Natural Expansion since she woke up). If she was honest with herself—which she always was—she was quite terrified at how quickly her Core was growing. She had already hurt people she loved. She didn’t want to hurt anymore.

The second drawback was that she’d only have access to the portion that was unLocked—at the moment, she couldn’t really see that as a con, however. The last was that it was a lengthy process to unLock her Core, and if she was in a dangerous situation and needed more magic, there was a very high chance that she couldn’t be able to unLock it in time.

While those were pretty big drawbacks, she had read in another book—and pure _logic_ supported the idea—that she could practice Locking and unLocking her Core to the point where it would be fast and _beneficial_ to her to keep her Core locked as it would cause those she fought to underestimate her.

Perhaps she would talk to Tom about it. He always knew what was best for her.

She lay in the comfortable warmth for over an hour, debating pros and cons and reviewing spells, and curses, before she sighed and swam back to the edge. She summoned her wand and the bath emptied a bit before all thirty faucets turned back on, only this time, ten of them added bubbles. Once there was a sufficient amount of bubbles, she grabbed the egg.

She held it in front of her face, and slowly turned it around. She made sure she got a clear look at all of the markings on the egg, and even looked over them twice to make sure she didn’t miss anything; Tom would be using the memory to help her figure it out. She scratched at the dried blood, and frowned when it still wouldn’t come off.

After an unknown amount of time, she decided to open the egg. She _also_ decided to ignore the definition of insanity for now—doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result (she was clearly insane).

She twisted open the top, and even though she was expecting it, flinched when it started to screech loudly around the large bathroom. The egg slipped out of her hands, and the screaming stopped while it rolled to the deepest part of the tub in the center.

She shook her head and decided that the ringing in her ears was the echo of the egg in the room. She took a deep breath and dove under the water to grab the egg, and immediately wished she could go back to sleep.

* * *

_Wednesday, February 7, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“We’re taking a bath together.”

Eden couldn’t help the maniacal laughter that shook her body when Tom choked on the food he ate. She flicked her wand and his throat cleared.

“Pardon?” he asked after he took deep breaths and drank water.

“A bath. You. Me. Water. Now.”

He flushed a deep red—**_SUCCESS!_**—and looked away from her. “I thought you wanted to wait until marriage…” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable as he crossed one leg over the other.

She laughed in mortification. “Merlin—_Mordred_—no! Not that way, you perv! We’ll be wearing clothes. See?” She concentrated and waved her wand and she was in a black halter bikini top and black swim shorts that ended just below her butt. Tom wore a pair of dark green swim shorts that had silver snakes embroidered on them—they also didn’t fit. “I stole those from Dragon. You’ll have to alter them yourself to make them fit.”

Eden was oblivious to the hungry look in his eyes as she dug around in her pearl bag to pull out the egg. “I thought we agreed that that stayed in the future.” His voice was deep and husky, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed a delicate pink when she finally saw the look on his face.

“We did…but then I discovered something. I wrote it all down just in case that this got broken during the time traveling, or whatever happens. I also have memories of it.”

She put a blood glamor on the bag and took it off and placed it on his bed. She turned around and gasped when she found him standing right behind her.

His hands landed on her hips and pulled her close as his head lowered to whisper in her ear. “**You have no idea what you’re doing to me**,” he hissed softly. His tongue flicked out to taste the shell of her ear, and she shivered and pushed closer to him. “**No…_damn_…idea**.”

He bumped his nose against hers twice and pulled her into a gentle kiss—just a press of the lips—while his hands gripped tightly—almost painfully—at her sides. She was sure that if she bruised easily, or even somewhat normally, bruises would be there when she woke up.

He pulled away and nuzzled her nose. “**I think I might have a slight idea**,” she hissed before she hastily turned around and made her way into the bathroom and into the large tub while her heart stuttered, and her blood burned.

As she leaned over to turn on the water and adjusted the temperature that was comfortable for her—she _hated_ hot water (it always made her sick)—she desperately tried to think about _something_ other than Tom’s chiseled stomach.

She had seen it before, but this was the first time that it had really clicked that he was hers.

It was also the first time that something about his appearance other than his smile and eyes affected her. She sat on the edge of the tub and put her head in her hands as she thought.

She always knew that Tom was attractive—in a clinical sense, that is. She’d have to be blind to not see it. It was just the first time that she was _attracted_ to him. For his looks, at least.

She had been attracted to his mind since sometime in her third year when she started to notice boys.

She had been attracted to his eyes since she figured out that they were the key to his emotions when she was in her second year—but it wasn’t in an ‘I love you’ kind of attracted. It was more of an ‘that’s really interesting’ type of attraction.

She had been attracted to his smile since the first time they met and he comforted her—but it wasn’t in a way that made her heart do uncomfortable flips in her chest, and made snakes coil in her stomach. It was in a way that made her soul warm and her mind finally—_finally_—whisper the words _I’m safe_. Although, when she was in the Coma—especially after they started dating—she had noticed that another thought was added, so now her mind and heart whispered _I’m safe, and I’m loved._

But just now…when she had seen Tom’s chiseled abdominal, pectoral, oblique, and deltoid muscles, she swore that her heart decided to stop, her basilisk grew wings in her stomach, her blood became fire, and her brain became mush.

She heard distant footsteps and took a couple of deep breaths before she stood. She squeaked when she saw Tom—and his delicious abdomen (oh, Merlin, _help her_)—standing right in front of her—again—with the egg in his hand.

She stumbled backwards and fell into the large tub and just barely missed hitting her head on the porcelain edge when he grabbed her ankle and yanked her forward.

She pulled her foot out of his grasp and sat up as she sputtered slightly. She pushed wet hair out of her face and grinned at him and kept her eyes firmly on his face—he had delectable leg muscles too (Morgana and Circe, what was _wrong _with her?)—and his soul warming smile.

“Well, come on. What are you waiting for?” She moved to the side of the tub closest to the faucet—_she_ would be the one in charge of that, thank you very much. “Bring the egg,” she added before she dipped her head just enough under the water so only her nose and eyes were showing.

“Clothes,” he scoffed slightly under his breath before he stepped into the water, the egg held tightly in his hand. “You are a freak,” he hissed once the temperature registered. She knew he absolutely _adored_ hot—_hot hot hot hot—_water.

She grinned widely under the water before she nodded. He groaned before he sat down and once seated, she took the egg from him. “Take a deep breath and duck under.”

He rolled his eyes fondly before he did as commanded. Once both were under, she opened the egg, and together they listened to the song.

They came up with a gasp and both wiped the hair out of their faces as Tom stared at her.

“Underwater. You’ll be going underwater.” She grinned and launched herself at him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Her face warmed, her heart thumped, and her basilisk flew—she was going to call him Sebastian, she decided after a moment (he was around often enough that he deserved a name).

“That’s what I was thinking too, but, I just wanted to be sure.”

He threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck and pulled her face back just enough so he could press a light kiss against her lips—she could feel the trembles as he held himself back. “How did you figure it out?” he asked once he pulled away.

She got out of his embrace before she did something that they both—if not him, _she_—would regret and pulled the drain. She climbed out of the tub and cast a drying charm on herself. “Honestly, it wasn’t even something that occurred to me. I was taking a bath and decided to bring it with me.”

She explained what had happened, and by the time she was finished, they were both properly dressed—they had both gotten very good at conjuring changing screens over the years (she didn’t dare use magic to put her clothes back on as a mistake that happened in second year—when he taught her the spell—had her taking dreamless sleep potion for a week due to the embarrassment).

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” he said as he fondly stroked her hair. She wrinkled her nose at him before she reached out and tied his tie for him.

“Only because of you.”

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and laughed softly in her ears. “Good. Now, today it’s into the Water Course with you.”

“But—I just got dressed!”

He gave a vicious smirk. “Well then, you’ll just have to get _un_dressed. If you like I could help.”

“Perv,” she muttered as she stepped out of his arms. She conjured another changing screen and quickly changed back into her swimsuit.

As soon as the screen was banished, arms were immediately wrapped around her bare waist. “**You don’t even know the half of it**,” he hissed softly into her right ear. His tongue flicked out and licked a way down from the shell of her ear and to her neck. Her head tilted back and her eyes closed as he bit, sucked, licked, and kissed the right side of her neck.

His hands trailed so his left was on her lower hip, and his right scorched the skin just below the fabric of her swim top. She snapped to attention when a finger slipped under the waistband of her shorts—it went no further—and fought her way out of his arms and practically dove into the seventh compartment.

His beautiful laughter greeted her.

Words more colorful than a double rainbow greeted him.

* * *

_Wednesday, February 8, 1995_

_ Location Undisclosed_

The clock chimed midnight.

He sighed and rubbed at his aching eyes with one hand and waved his free hand, and a glass of fire whiskey was poured, and floated over to him. He knocked the entire glass back, and poured himself another and dropped his quill. He finished the second glass, poured a third, and rubbed his hands across his face.

He sipped at his drink before he ran his work-hardened fingers against the tight muscles of the back of his neck. He took another sip, and groaned as he tried to soothe the perpetual ache that had begun to pound a violent and unrelenting tattoo since he had gone to the Dark Lord for help a little over a month ago.

He groaned and sat back in his chair, and finished the third glass. He felt the alcohol start to ooze through his blood, and against his better judgement, poured himself another glass. His mind began to fog, and he opened the warded bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a picture of his daughter.

He felt near to tears.

It was his favorite picture of her.

The two stood next to each other and King’s Cross Station, and the reason it was his favorite was because it was candid.

The loop restarted, and he watched fondly when she accidentally dropped her trunk onto her toes and started to hop around on one foot. She hopped for a moment before she crashed into his side, and he wrapped an arm around her to steady her.

She grinned at him, and her eyes shined with the kind of love that a daughter held for her father. He ruffled her hair, shrunk her Trunk, and she shoved it into the pocket of her silk-lined robes before she hugged him again.

The loop ended with her taking her Trunk out of her pocket and resizing it, and it started once more.

It had been taken years ago when he had a charade that he needed to keep up, and it was one of the few pictures that he had of her.

He stroked the young face of his daughter, and wondered if she would hate him if she ever learned of what he had done.

He had, after all, put her life into the hands of a man who had tried to end it, and had failed only due to her brother saving her.

He loved her, and she loved him.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hoped you liked it.
> 
> So, uh.... Remember that Fem!Harry I told you guys about like, seven or eight chapters ago? Well, I finally finished it. It ended up having four drafts, so, I hope you really like it. It's a Soulmate AU, so, if you're not into that, I suggest not reading it. It's also called Is This Seat Taken.
> 
> I also posted another story called True Love's Kiss. I wrote it when I was just really fed up with pain from the surgery, and the fact that it didn't help as much as I hoped it would (the doctor said to wait two months before I look in other places (TT__TT)). So, if you want to read something very emotionally charged, I suggest that.
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the support, and comments. I read them all, and I don't reply to all of them, either due to lack of time or spoilers, but I love them all anyway.


	20. 19 Deep Breaths

_Wednesday, February 8, 1995_

_ Potions Classroom_

“Are you okay?”

Eden paused the humming she had been doing under her breath and looked up at Pansy. “Yeah, why?” Draco and Theo turned around from their table in front of them while Daphne and Millicent carefully leaned forward over their potions. Blaise and Tracy completely walked away from their potions and stood next to her.

Was this another ‘intervention’?

“You just seem . . . a little . . . ” She was clearly uncomfortable and glared at Draco—he obviously put her up to doing this, and Eden’s interest was piqued (it was always entertaining to see them try and outdo one another and sabotage the other at the same time). He sighed and returned the glare in kind before he turned to her.

“Perky,” he started dully, “you’re _perky_ and you need to stop it. Now. It’s weird.” Eden laughed loudly and received a fond smile from Snakey-Snape as he walked by their potions. She shook her head and added the next ingredient.

“I figured out what the Second Task is going to be,” she whispered to her friends. She was very aware of the glares sent to her by the Gryffindor’s—she had been correct in her assessment that Leif would run back to their parents as soon as she returned to school (she desperately wished she had been wrong).

“Really?” Daphne squealed.

“Yeah.”

“…you still need to stop being perky, it’s weird,” Draco insisted.

“You’re weird.”

“You’re perky.”

“You’re mopey.” She was only vaguely aware that the rest of the class had paused to listen to their argument as the eight continued to work on their potions.

“I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely.”

She looked up when she heard him snort. “Dammit, Eden! I hate you!” he barely bit out from his repressed laughter.

“You love me.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

“I’m pretty sure you do.” Pansy started to choke as she bit her tongue to keep from laughing along with the other Slytherin’s who weren’t involved in the conversation.

“I will hex you.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “you couldn’t hex me.”

She heard a snort from the lion’s den and looked up and saw Granger biting her lip as she stole glances at the two. She smiled at the girl and received a hesitant smile in return.

“And why can’t I hex you?”

“You hex her,” Theo started slowly as if he were attempting to explain something to a child, “and the _entirety_ of our House will be out for your blood, Draco, _including_ the firsties.”

“Hatchlings,” Eden absently mumbled.

“Awe! They’re our little hatchlings!” Daphne squealed softly.

The entirety of the Slytherin’s—including Snakey-Snape—exchanged a look.

“What have I done?” Eden said in mock horror, and the classroom was filled with laughter from sixteen snakes as the lions glared.

_Severus Snape’s Office_

Severus looked up from the dreadful assignments he was grading when a knock echoed on his door. “Come in.”

Eden stepped into the room, and he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “Hi, Snakey-Snape.” His smile immediately fell, and he was left to scowl.

“I hate that name.”

She smirked. “If you truly hated it, you wouldn’t respond to it.”

His scowl deepened, and he knew that he had aged ten years within the five seconds she had been in his office. “What do you need, _pest_?”

She grinned. “I want you to teach me.”

A brow lifted. “I thought that’s what I do. Am I not doing an adequate enough job with your classmates?”

She snorted. “Not potions. I want you to teach me to Lock a portion of my Core away.”

All amusement left. “You do realize that this will take weeks to heal from?”

She nodded. “Which is why we’ll only Lock a small portion of it away every morning before the Task.”

“Are you sure?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I know how dangerous the First Task was, and that the Tasks have been designed to get more and more difficult as the Tournament progresses. I worry that with your Core Locked before the Task, and it still healing from the Locking of it . . . . I fear you will not be strong enough.” Her jaw set. “Just think about it for a couple of days.”

She pouted for a few more minutes before she agreed.

The second his office door closed, he wrote to Lucius.

* * *

_Thursday, February 8, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“Today, while I eat, we’re going to read these books, and while I’m in class, you’ll be in the Water Course practicing swimming,” Tom said from where he sat on the edge of his bed with his tie slung around his neck, not yet tied.

Eden sat up from her stretches and did a two fingered Glitter Salute. “Aye, aye, Captain!”

He glared at her and stopped messing with his tie. “One more pun—”

“That wasn’t a pun!” she interrupted.

“How was that _not_ a pun!?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to _be_ a pun.”

Tom scowled at her. “You know, I’m not entirely sure I believe you.”

“Oh, come off it, Tom!” She stood and walked over to him and stood in between his slightly spread legs. She grabbed the silk green and silver fabric around his neck and swiftly tied it for him. “I’m sorry I made an accidental pun.” She curled her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

His scowl broke and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I forgive you.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and gently squeezed her hips before he pulled away. She blushed at the warmth in his eyes as he gazed on her as if she were the most precious of jewels.

“Thank you. Now, where are the books you want me to start reading?” She started to pull away, but was stopped by the tightening of his grip.

“Later.”

He curled his fingers into the hair at the base of her head and pulled her closer once more and pressed a kiss against her lips. His lips moved slow and gently along her own; both were content to keep it slow and enjoy the Magic that crackled around them every time their lips met.

Eventually, his tongue stroked the seam of her mouth, and it fell open. His hand in her hair and the hand on her waist tightened as he adjusted their positions just enough so he could deepen the kiss. A soft sigh left her mouth as she curled her fingers in his hair as he started to devour her.

The kiss remained unhurried, but there was an intensity in it that hadn’t been there before.

* * *

_Thursday, February 9, 1995_

_ Slytherin Common Room_

“Is that a hickey?”

Eden flushed a delicate pink as she immediately regretted pulling her hair up into a high ponytail. They had been on their way back from dinner, and had just entered the common room, and those nearest the door had fallen silent as they stared at the group of five. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was going to _end_ Tom.

“Lies!” Pansy crowed.

She broke into a run. “Eden! Get back here!” Draco demanded as he too, started to run.

“Never!” She leapt over a coffee table and nearly tripped when Blaise ran into it and fell when he tried to copy her.

“Noah Eden Potter! Get back here this instant!” he shouted between his groans.

At this point, the entire common room was silent as they watched the five fourth years.

“No way in _Hell_! You’ll have to Imperius me first!” Growls of rage from her friends echoed in the silent common room, and she ran and jumped up onto the back of an arm chair, and just barely caught her balance.

“Antony! Help us!”

The King smirked. “Why should I?” He sat in the chair across from the one she currently used as a perch, and seemed quite entertained.

“She has a hickey!”

The amusement fell off of his face in an instant. He stood and slowly approached the chair. “Hey! No, stay away! I’m warning you. Ah!” He charged the chair and she was pinned to the floor underneath the tall seventh year. “Get off of me, you big lug!” He pressed her further into the ground. “Please, Selwyn?”

He smiled charmingly down at her. “Oh, come now, darling, surely we’re closer than that.” He tilted her head to the side and clucked in the back of his tongue when he saw the hickey that was under her right ear. “Perhaps even close enough for you to tell me who would be giving you a hickey.”

She flushed a deep red again. “Antony, you _damn_ son of a banshee! Get off of me!”

“Or what?”

Rainbows were very jealous that day when she described exactly _what_ she would do to him in _extreme_ and _vile_ detail.

* * *

_Friday, February 9, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yes, love?”

“Before you go to class, can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it?” He stood in front of her, and she automatically reached out and tied his tie for him.

“What’s your opinion on Locking a portion of my Core away instead of just Binding it really, really tight?”

He was silent for a moment. He wrapped his arms around her and led her to the couch and sat her down on his lap. “In order for you to understand my opinion, you need to fully understand the vast differences between the two. When you Bind your Core, all you’re really doing is just coiling it very close to your body for better control. It’s actually very _natural_ to Bind your Core; in fact, most witches and wizards do it subconsciously.

“When you Lock your Core, you are essentially removing a part of your very being for a set amount of time, whether it’s temporary or permanent. With Locking your Core comes many, _many_ dangers, but it also removes another factor. You see, when most people are forced to Lock their Core, they’re doing it because their magic has become a danger to themselves and others. If you Lock a small portion of your Core away, it’s safe, but, if you Lock too much away, it can be fatal.

“UnBinding a Core is simple and often thoughtless. UnLocking a Locked Core is time consuming and often dangerous depending on how it’s been Locked away. Why do you ask?”

“I’m struggling to control my magic when I’m awake . . . I’ve sent quite a few people to the hospital wing. Snakey-Snape has suggested that I Lock a portion of it away, so I have control of it again.”

Tom immediately started to shake his head. “No. Don’t do it.”

“But, Tom. What if I hurt someone?”

“Then do it _after_ the Task, not before. I _refuse_ to allow you to do something so _foolish_ as to Lock your Core so close to the Task.”

She pouted and her left brow furrowed. He kissed her brow, and then he kissed away her pout. “Have I ever hurt you before Eden?” She shook her head and he kissed her again. “Trust me. I will _never_ hurt you. I Promise.”

Something tightened in the air, and it didn’t feel like Magic.

It felt almost like . . . .

She smiled tightly and kissed him, and tried to push the sensation of being choked to the back of her mind.

_So much rage._

* * *

_Monday, February 12, 1945_

_ Seventh Compartment—Water Course_

She couldn’t breathe.

Eden lay on the gritty, conjured black sand of the compartment as she coughed up salt water out of her lungs, and multiple spells wrapped around her and sunk into her skin. Her body was numb and sore from the giant whirlpool mere feet away that had just tried to eat her whole.

It was the first time that the failsafe spells had been activated in any of the compartments, as it had been the first time that her life had truly been in danger.

She ignored Tom’s frantic voice begging her if she was okay, in favor of _dying_. “Eden, I swear, if you need me to, I’ll be there in two minutes at most.”

Another spell—one of the failsafe spells—painfully slammed into her chest again. She coughed up more salt water, and shook her head as her lungs finally relaxed and she could breathe again. She flopped onto her back and took deep, gasping breaths as the spells continued to hover over her body. She didn’t know how long they’d stay, but they were pretty to look at, even if one would threaten to hit her if she took slightly too long to inhale.

“I’m fine.” She coughed a bit more, and she had to quickly roll back onto her side as bile came out, and another spell hit her. She groaned and rolled back onto her back. “Do you want to know what would be _awesome_?” she demanded. Her voice was raw and husky from the water she just tried to _breathe_.

“What?” Tom sounded only _slightly_ relieved at the fact that she could breathe once more.

“If lungs could be permanently altered to be able to breathe both air _and_ water simultaneously if needed.” She coughed once more, and bile gagged her again. “I’m fine, I’m fine. But, just a little suggestion, maybe you should lessen the strength of the water.”

Immediately the ear crushing volume of water lessened as the whirlpool slowed. “Duly noted. Any other suggestions you’d like to add?” he sounded thoughtful, and slightly distracted.

“I’d rather _drown_ than _ever_ eat gillyweed _ever_ again.”

He sighed in exasperation, but she could hear the fondness and amusement in the sound. “So you’ve said before.”

She had tried it four days ago.

It wasn’t fun.

“Hey, until I can get that _vile_ memory out of my head, I will complain all that I want about it.”

Another sigh. “If you’re fine, get back into the water.”

The spells hovered for a few more minutes before they dissipated, and she sat for about ten minutes longer before she slipped back into the water.

* * *

_Wednesday, February 14, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“You’re early,” Tom stated slowly when he woke up when Eden decided it would be a _wonderful_ idea to straddle his stomach.

Sometimes—most times—he doubted how innocent she actually was.

She grinned and leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, and he near about _died_ at the fire that coursed through him with an icy flush. “Yep.”

She nuzzled his neck.

Really, she couldn’t be _that_ innocent that she had _no idea_ what she was doing to him. Perhaps she was a siren in disguise…

No.

He had heard her sing, and while she had a decent voice, she was no siren.

He groaned when her tongue flicked against the skin of his neck and he wanted to devour—

No.

Don’t think about it.

He groaned again and pulled her off of him. “Why are you early?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked her head underneath his chin and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. He ran his fingers up and down her back and nearly fell back to sleep when she started to run her fingers through his hair.

“It’s Valentine’s day. I pretended to be sick, so that’s why I’m here at six in the morning.”

He smiled slowly against her soft hair. “How long are you staying?”

“The usual time.”

He nodded his head and pulled her closer to him. Merlin, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of having her in his arms. It was near painful to sleep without her in his bed. “I guess I should probably get up then.”

She rapidly shook her head. “No, you don’t have to. I’m find spending the day right _here_.”

Control. Must—have—_control_.

But _damn_ was she making it hard.

Eden curled in closer to him and a certain calmness filled her soul that could only be found when she was in his arms. She craved the feelings of safeness that he brought to her just by smiling at her, or holding her in his arms. She needed it like she needed water.

He groaned slightly before he chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “As _tempting_ as that thought is, we only have ten days until the Task.”

She groaned and tried to get impossibly closer to him. She needed the comfort that only his arms could bring. “I knew you were going to say something about that,” she sighed. “I spent almost all of today in the Restricted Section trying to find things on breathing underwater, but, I only found things that we’ve already read or tried. Snakey-Snape and Crazy Face had to bail me out of missing classes when Dumblebutt found out that I had been there all day. I know why Snakey did it, but Crazy leaves me a bit confused.”

He laughed and pressed another kiss to her skin. “Speaking of that, I may have found and or created something. I definitely found something, and I _may_ have created something new. I’m not sure if it’s been done before, but, all of the theory behind it works out.”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever read the tale of the Little Mermaid?”

She thought for a moment. “Isn’t that a muggle fairy tale?” She remembered from when she was a _little_, little kid, whenever she and Leif would have nightmares, their mother would put them in the same bed and read to them from a story book she grew up with.

“It wasn’t originally. It was originally a biography written by a witch who had met a mermaid who became human in the 16th century The mermaid only told her story because the witch spoke Mermish, and it kind of got out of hand in the 19th century when the Grimm brothers decided to share wizarding stories and tales with the muggles. Most were forgotten—and that’s not important. What _is_ important is that there were two rituals used to turn the mermaid human—well, as human as she could get.

“One was similar to the animagus ritual, but instead of becoming an animal, it gave her a human half that became dominant. The other ritual was used to make it so she could breathe air, and only air. They might have done another one to get rid of her merfolk side, but nothing was mentioned about it.

“Anyway, I found these rituals shortly after we started our research, and I decided that they were completely useless until a couple days ago. I’ve altered it to allow you to breathe both water and air until you die.”

“How does that work?”

“Your lungs will develop something similar to gills.”

“How . . . how do we know it will work?”

“Well, you see . . . .” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple. When he spoke, his voice was more gravelly than usual and his hands trembled. “First years.”

She blinked her eyes four times. “Pardon?”

“We’ll test it on first years, and then we’ll obliviate them.”

“Tom! We can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

She closed her eyes and prayed to the Olde gods for strength. “Two reasons. The first is that it’s _highly illegal_—”

“Dear, the spells we use on a daily basis are _highly illegal_.”

She whacked him and continued on. “Second, they could drown.”

“We’ll be careful.”

“Tom—”

He groaned and rolled over so he pinned her to the bed with his body. “I’m not losing you, Eden. Please. I promise they won’t get hurt.”

Eden groaned before she nodded and Sealed the promise. His eyes widened. “Fine. But, I’m telling you now, the Price if they get hurt is…. I’m going to start taking dreamless sleep potion.” It pained her beyond reality to Seal it, and even more to put a Price on it, but, he needed to know she wouldn’t support all of his idea’s wholeheartedly.

Horcruxes and power were one thing. Children, however, were a completely different thing.

Tom paled and pressed closer to her. They both stared at each other in pain. “Have I ever broken a promise to you, Eden? Sealed or not?”

“No.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Then _trust_ me, Eden. No one will get hurt, and if they do, it will be something we can fix with magic. I promise.”

She didn’t dare Seal it. She saw the relief in his eyes. “Alright. I trust you, Tom. I trust you with my life.”

_And my heart_.

* * *

_Wednesday, February 15, 1995_

_ Location Undisclosed_

He stared at the grain of the wooden door and tightly clenched his fists.

As blood pooled in his grasp, he pictured his daughter’s beautiful face. It was for her. It was all for her.

He just needed to remind himself of that, and everything would be fine. He would persevere as long as he remembered his daughter.

He flicked his wrist and the door swung open, and he stepped into the damned room. “So, the traitor has finally returned.”

His lips curled into a snarl. “Shut it, Wormtail.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

He stormed over to the man and got close into his face, and held him by the collar of his shirt with his left hand, while he fumbled for his wand with his right. “If I’m a traitor,” he hissed as he finally grabbed his wand and pressed it into the man’s ample stomach, “than you’re nothing but a hypocrite.”

A bone-tired sigh was the only warning he had before both he and the rat were hit with a small dose of the Cruciatus. “Now, now, my friends. I will not tolerate fighting among us in such a . . . delicate time.”

He glared at the sniveling man next to him before he knelt at the Dark Lord’s feet. “Of course, my Lord.” He ignored the slight trembling of his hands as the aftershocks from the Curse ate at him.

It was for Eden.

“I am glad . . . that you could come on such short notice. I know you are a _very_ busy man.”

“That’s fine, my Lord. I . . . I live to serve you.”

“Do you really?” His Master was amused. This was dangerous territory. How did one _deal_ with an amused madman who was trapped in a less-than-ideal body?

He was about to learn.

“Does that mean your daughter doesn’t matter to you?”

“What?” He physically drew back and fell onto his butt as he stared at the Dark Lord in terror. “No! Of course, she matters to me!”

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot. She’s the whole reason you’re here, isn’t she?” the tone was bitter, and it was the amused twinkle in bright-red eyes that told him what he needed to know.

His Master was toying with him.

He swallowed through a suddenly tight throat. “Yes, my Lord.”

“No need to be so nervous, my friend,” he said in a slow, bright tone, that was meant to disarm. But underneath the brightness, was a mocking interlining, and he suspected under that lining, was a backing of sarcasm with an overlay of sadism. “As long as you do as your told,” he continued in the same tone, “she will live a long, happy life.”

“Promise?” The word ripped out of him before he could stop it. He was so desperate to secure her safety, he feared he was just putting her in the way of an oncoming Death Spell.

“I make no promises.” His body shook with unimaginable pain once more.

“Of course, my Lord. I apologize, my Lord.”

“Do you really?” he repeated, in the same, innocently curious tone he had previously asked the question. Before he could answer, the mutated man continued. “No matter. I need you to do some things for me.”

He smiled tightly, and pictured bright green eyes as they smiled at him with a daughter’s love.

“Of course, my Lord.”


	21. 20 The Little Mermaid

_Sunday, February 18, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“Alright, let’s get started. You have access to my _glorious_ presence until 2:27 PM.”

Tom was silent for a moment as he finished buttoning his shirt. “Exactly how long is that in your time?”

Clearly _someone_ had just woken up.

“22 and a half hours. I spent all of today pretending to be very sick with a migraine. I have convinced my roommates, friends, and teachers—with some very well-placed compulsion charms—that all I need sleep, and that I will wake up when I am better.”

“You sly little witch.” He pulled on a gray sweater with the Slytherin crest stitched on his chest, and green and silver stripes at the wrists and collar.

She weakly smiled at him and fixed the buttons when he missed one. “Well, I _was_ trained by the best.”

He smirked and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “Thank you. I have ten students lined up. They’ll be joining us after breakfast in the Room of Requirement.”

“Isn’t that a lot?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on top of hers. “Nothing is too much when it comes to your safety, love.”

Eden sighed and wrapped her arms around him and leaned against him. “I really hope this works,” she murmured into his chest.

“As do I, my lovely little one. As do I.”

“What happened to ‘my lovely little masochist’? I was quite fond of that one.”

He bit her.

_Room of Requirement_

Eden finished obliviating the ninth first year before she sent the girl on her way. As usual with each student, she hoped that the first year—this one a Slytherin—would never find out that she actually _could_ breathe underwater.

Her obliviation skills weren’t as good as Tom’s—due to her aversion to Mind Magic—but the time that she’d wake up quickly approached, and so she had been tasked with the wiping of memories of the last three students while Tom tested the Ritual and Potion on their next victim—student.

Merlin, if they got caught, Azkaban would look like a summer home compared to what the students’ families would do to them.

Which is why she Prayed to Lady Clementia that no one would figure out what they had done. If they—_any_ of the students—figured out that they could breathe underwater, the spell would most likely break and memories of the experiments would come back to them and the other students would be reminded and then—

She couldn’t think about what would happen.

She turned her attention to the first year Gryffindor and watched with bated breath as the Runic Circle the boy stood in glowed a bright blue, before he drank the potion that Tom had prepared the day prior. The boy doubled over and clutched at his chest for 28 seconds before he straightened up. He answered the questioned Tom asked before he was led out of the Circle and to the large clear tub of water that the Room had conjured and filled for them.

The boy climbed in and Eden watched with her wand clutched tightly in her hand as he lowered beneath the water and took a deep breath. He faltered for a few seconds before he grinned and started breathing normally.

Another success.

The boy was brought out of the water, and again, he faltered for only a moment before he was breathing normal once more. Tom quickly obliviated the boy and sent him on his way.

“So, it works,” she said after they were alone.

“Indeed it does.” It was easy to ignore the pride in his voice when she saw the relief in his eyes.

The Seal on the Promise that wrapped tightly around her Core broke, and she was able to truly smile for the first time since she Sealed it. “You might want to track down the three that I obliviated, just to be sure that they have no memory and there’s no chance for them to come back.”

He wrapped her in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “If you insist. I believe you have done well enough, though.”

“I do insist, because I’m not entirely sure. You know how I feel about Mind Magic, and on top of that, I don’t have as much practice with it as you do.”

He hummed low in his throat before he led her to a loveseat in front of a fireplace as the room changed. “You must give yourself more credit, love.”

She curled up on his lap and tucked her head against his neck and her hands underneath his sweater. “I believe you give me too much credit.”

He tilted her head up. “My dear, I only give credit where credit is due.” She smiled in a self-deprecating manner until he placed a chaste kiss against her lips. “My dear, if you do that again, I’ll have to punish you.”

She failed in her attempt to not smile. “I quite like your punishments.”

He gave a wolfish grin with a wink. “As do I, my dear.”

She pressed her lips to his and easily slipped her tongue into his mouth for a few moments before she pulled away with a yawn on her lips. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered before she faded away.

* * *

_Sunday, February 19, 1995_

_ Slytherin Common Room_

“Hey, are you feeling better?”

Eden nodded as she flopped on the couch next to Draco. “Much. I’m still tired though, so, I’ll probably be going back to bed soon,” she answered him and faked a yawn as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Alright, but if you need help, you know Uncle Sev is more than willing to help.”

“I know _tata_ is.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and placed his head on top of hers. “I’m just worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be.”

Everyone was unaware of the green eyes that watched the pair on the couch as the older Slytherin’s cooed at them.

“We’ve had this discussion before, no matter what Pansy says, I’m your best friend, and it’s my job to worry.”

“No, you’re not,” She ignored his protests and the other’s laughter and continued on, “you’re my brother, Draco. She could never be to me what you are. No one could.”

“Not even Potter?”

“Not even Leif,” she answered immediately.

No one was aware of the tear that fell out of a green eye hidden beneath an Invisibility Cloak.

(everyone would soon be aware of the anger and betrayal those last nine words had created)

After the Cloaked individual was gone, Eden continued. “He’s my twin. Nothing will be able to get rid of that. I love him, and at one point in time, he was a part of me. We often called ourselves two halves of a whole. You’re my brother, and he’s my twin brother. They’re both different, but equally important to me.”

* * *

_Monday, February 19, 1945_

_ Compartment 7—Water Course_

Eden stood in the center of the Runic Circle that had been drawn in the black sand.

“Tom, everything is going to be alright,” she soothed as he paced back and forth like a caged lion—he would _kill_ her if he ever found out about the comparison.

“I know—I just—it’s _you_. It’s different now. I know it worked with the other students. Perhaps we should have tested it on fourth years instead—”

She stepped out of the Circle and pressed her right hand against the side of his face while she grabbed his hand with her left. “Everything is going to be alright, Tom. Don’t worry.” He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck and breathed in deeply. “Why don’t you tell me what’s in the potion again,” she suggested.

“Gillyweed extract, Sea Witch hair, human hair, Grindylow blood, dolphin fat, ground coffee beans, green tea, honey, eucalyptus, peppermint, orange extract, and fish scales, among other, less important ingredients,” he recited off automatically, and his grip started to loosen. “The combined effects of all of those ingredients will allow you to breathe both air and water at the same time if necessary until you die. The gillyweed, hair, blood, fat, and fish scales will allow your lungs to develop gills, while the coffee beans, green tea, honey, eucalyptus, peppermint, and orange extract will keep your lungs clear and breathing easy.”

“It’s going to work, darling,” she whispered as she carded her fingers through his hair and he relaxed further.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” He bit her neck playfully before he took a deep breath and pulled away.

He gently pushed her back into the circle and handed her the vial with the dark liquid. He started to chant and the runes lit up with his words. At his gesture, she drank the vile potion—it truly was the worst thing she had ever drunk (she didn’t think she’d ever be able to eat fish again)—and after it was all gone, she doubled over as her lungs started to burn.

It felt as if someone tore at her lungs, cut them into little strips, and then sewed them back together with fire. The pain ended just as suddenly as it started, and she slipped into the water. She gripped the edge of the pool and met Tom’s worried eyes before she ducked underwater. Above the surface of the gently lapping water, she saw his dark form crouch down, and felt his hand against her fingers.

She took a deep breath.

Her lungs stuttered and flared with pain before it faded, and they grew heavy with water. She closed her eyes and breathed in again, and as she breathed, the pain faded until it was a forgotten memory that grew more distant with every inhale and exhale.

She grinned before she pulled herself up with her fingers and nearly butted heads with Tom who had reared back onto his butt to avoid the collision. Her lungs burned once more and the water in them seemed to evaporate suddenly when air started to enter them instead of water, and the water in her mouth slipped through her lips. Within a few breaths, the pain was gone and she breathed normally once more.

“How do you feel?” He moved so he was crouched in front of her.

“I feel great!” she chirped.

She dipped down enough so only her eyes were visible before she popped back up and sprayed him in the face with a stream of water from her mouth. She turned and dove under the surface and swam away quickly from him. Her lungs flared with slight pain as her breathing increased before the pain disappeared.

Hopefully, the pain would be gone soon.

“Oh come on!” she shrieked. Her voice warbled as his magic fought through the various swimming spells that permeated the water around her, and wrapped around her ankle and pulled her back to the surface. Soon she was dangling six feet above the water with her arms crossed over her chest to keep her swim top from falling off, or showing _something_ she most _definitely_ didn’t want him to see.

While the halter top covered most of her chest, from just below the hollow of her throat to a just below her near non-existent breasts, and was charmed to stay in place, it only took one experience for her to be completely terrified of her top falling off—it had happened when she went swimming in the Black Lake with her friends in third year.

“I believe punishment is in order,” he hummed lowly as he came to stand in front of her with their faces even.

“You have class.”

He hummed low in his throat before he cupped the sides of her head in his large hands. He placed a soft kiss against her lips and hummed once more. “You’re right. I’ll just have to punish you_ after_ class then.” He pressed another kiss against her lips, and his tongue slipped into her mouth easily. “Or I could just punish you in here while I’m in class.”

She shook her head as much as his hands would allow. “No, I can wait until after class to be punished.”

“Ah, ah, ah. As I am the one doing the punishing, I am the one to decide how you get punished.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Wouldn’t you enjoy punishing me after class than during class more?” she whispered. She pulled herself close to him and brought the shell of his ear into her mouth and nibbled on it softly.

She shrieked when the spell that held her up was canceled and she fell, only to be caught in his arms. “You are far too clever,” he whispered hungrily in her ear.

“Or, perhaps,” she started softly and carded her fingers through his hair once more, “you’re very easy to manipulate.”

He growled and pulled her into a punishing kiss before he pushed her harshly against the wall.

He was late for class.

* * *

_Monday, February 20, 1995_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

“You spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathtub this morning, are you okay?” Millie asked as Eden pulled on her blazer.

She looked up and smiled at the girl. “Perfectly fine. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

The girl hummed. “I was just afraid that you had drowned.”

Eden fought desperately to keep the snort inside and succeeded. She looped her tie around her neck and began to tie it. “I won’t drown, Millie. I promise.”

She didn’t know if she was happy or sad that the girl didn’t Seal it.

* * *

_Tuesday, February 20, 1945_

_ Compartment 7—Water Course_

“Dammit Tom! I knew how to swim before you decided to do this to me!” she shrieked as the whirlpool sucked her up and spat her out many more times. She glared at the ceiling where his laughter came from. “I swear I knew how!” she insisted when his laughter increased.

“Cast the spell, love.”

She glared at the ceiling once more before she summoned her wand from the depths of the whirlpool and cast the spell. The water around her thinned and stilled before she dove under the crushing waves and through the whirlpool. She had to recast the spell a few more times before she was able to reach the button at the bottom—_100 feet the fricken sadist_, she thought irritably—and pressed it. The waters around her bubble calmed.

She shot back up to the surface and out of the water five feet before she landed back in with a painful flop. “Owie!” she moaned once she came back up. “I’m _so_ blaming you for that.”

“Darling, it’s hardly fair to blame others for your problems.”

“_You_, my dear sir, are the _sole cause_ to my _problems_. Seriously though, if I wasn’t afraid of what you’d do, I’d be releasing a million pirate puns upon your sorry butt right now.”

A dark chuckle filled the stupidly huge room. “Now, I want you to practice flying to the surface from the bottom.”

“Flying? In water?”

“Yes.”

“Sweetie . . . did you get enough sleep?”

She could _feel _the scowl—she would bet money that he was scowling in class too (good ol’ Dumbles deserves it—or was he in History of Magic now?). “I’m perfectly healthy and well rested, thank you very much. It will be less like flying in water, but it’s the same principle. I want you to practice wrapping your magic around you while surrounded by something other than air. We never know what will help, and we need to be prepared for everything.”

Unlike last time.

Eden grumbled a few colorful words before she dove back down to the bottom of the pool. Once her feet were flat on the ground, she closed her eyes and felt for her magic.

What she found, shocked her.

Her Raw Magic was already a thick substance—similar to molasses—that saturated the air around her constantly. In the water, however, it was thicker, almost like chilled butter—a solid resistant to idle manipulation—and required much more force than usual to actually use it Raw.

In the water, it took more concentration, time, and even more _magic_ than usual to wrap it around her feet, even with the thinned water around her. Her head pounded with the force needed to will herself to the surface, but when her magic finally—_finally_—responded to her insistent commands and softened as it bent to her will, she shot towards the surface at an almost breakneck speed and nearly hit her head on the ceiling 30 feet above the once smooth water.

“Do it again, and _do_ try to refrain from giving yourself a concussion this time, love.”

She growled at him and made a rude hand gesture before she repeated the maneuver three more times—of which only two were not head threatening heights—after which she was so physically exhausted, and felt completely Drained, she just sunk to the bottom of the pool and laid there.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, but eventually she got enough energy back to manipulate the water around her with another handy spell beaten—almost literally—into her head by yours truly, and floated to the surface.

“Do you think there’s a spell or a potion or a Ritual that could expand my Core?” she asked after a moment of tranquility.

“Not safely. It would make you go crazy at best, and kill you at worst. The only way to purposefully force an Expansion of your Core is to practice, and that’s what we’re doing.”

“What about Growth Spurts?”

She heard a faint groan. “Those happen until you turn 17, they’re natural and apart of the maturation of a witch or wizard.” She dipped under the water before she popped back up a minute later.

Merlin, she was _exhausted_.

“I’m proud of you.”

A lazy smile pulled at her lips at the spoken words. “Well, _I’m _proud of me, too,” she said in a pompous tone.

She flinched slightly when the water formed a vaguely hand-looking shape and stroked her face. “I know you meant it jokingly, love, but, I’m glad to finally hear those words come out of your mouth.”

“Why?” She leaned into the waters touch and heard a huff of laughter.

“Because you are the _one_ person in all of existence who deserves all of the praise in the world,” he whispered. The water hand stroked her face again and she once more leaned into it. “You are too magnificent to not be proud of how far you’ve come in life.”

She smiled softly and did a barrel roll. “It’s hard to be proud of myself when I’m surrounded by you, Tom. You are . . . _everything_ I aspire to be. I constantly compare myself to you—” her words were cut off as a wave crashed over her and pulled her under.

When she popped back up and swiped the hair out of her face, he spoke once more. “‘The fastest way to kill something special is to compare it to something else’,” he quoted. “You need to stop comparing yourself to me, your brother, your filthy family . . . . You are your own special breed of power, my dear. And don’t you _ever_ forget that. There is nothing in this world to compare yourself to that would be fair to you. _Nothing_ is as _beautiful_ or as _powerful_ as you are, my love. You are _perfect_ . . . _just_ the way you are.”

She smiled a sad, soft smile and yawned. “I’ve been comparing myself to others for my entire life. I don’t think I know how to stop.”

“That’s what I’m here for: to help you, love.” She yawned again. “Rest, my dove.”

She smiled, and faded away.

* * *

_Friday, February 23, 1945_

_ Compartment 7—Water Course_

“Everything is going to be fine, darling.”

They had just finished ‘water-sparing’, and both were gasping for breath. It was the one thing that he could actually practice with her on, as they had learnt it together, thus neither one was better than the other.

That’s what she wanted to say.

Water-sparing was really they were both in the water and he shot spells at her and she had to dodge and evade them while she attempted to do the same to him.

He. _Always_. Won.

She wrinkled her nose and splashed water into his face. “The last time you said that I was in a Coma for two months.”

“I never said everything was going to be fine. I just said that you could do it.”

“That’s basically the same thing,” she grumbled as she crossed her arms. The water cushioned her with a spell, so she didn’t have to tread it, unlike Tom—it was a spell invented in the mid 80’s, so she couldn’t (wouldn’t) share it with him.

“Not really.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He bore his teeth at her. “Pest.”

“Sadist.”

“Mas—I’m not doing this again.”

She smirked and preened before she dove under the water and dodged a cutting hex sent at her back. Ever since he had explained to her how those two words were typically used, she had discovered a nearly fool-proof way to win arguments with him.

As she sunk in the water, she turned so her feet were pointed up and towards him, and returned the hex. She grinned through her guilt when it found a nice new home in his foot. As blood blossomed in the water, she quickly torpedoed towards him and grabbed his foot before he could and healed the cut. She pulled herself up by pushing down on his feet, and as she ascended her nose brushed against his lower abdomen—she was going to die of embarrassment. She poked out of the water and pressed a kiss to his lips and cast the cushioning spell on the both of them. “I’m sorry.”

Tom wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her deeply. His tongue tangled with hers for a moment before he pulled away and bumped his nose against hers twice. “I know. I’m not mad. Quite the opposite, actually.”

She yawned and pressed her face into his neck, and he closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to bask in the warmth her affections for a moment. She had quickly become his guilty pleasure—his greatest weakness, and he didn’t think he could ever give her up (willingly or unwillingly—the mere thought brought upon him the rage of souls damned to eternities in Hell).

“I don’t want to go,” she murmured after she yawned again.

He ran his hand up and down the now smooth skin of her back, and silently marveled at the taut muscles under his fingers. _He_ had done that—made her into who she was now.

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the velvety soft skin of her neck before he flew them out of the trunk to where her things were.

_Head Dorm_

He waved his wand and the two were dried off, and with another wave, they were dressed. She pulled on her ivory bag—he had seen it multiple times now, but refused to tell her (he wasn’t entirely sure what mess that would create—he cared about their relationship (her _friendship_) too much to even _consider_ messing it up)—and slipped her wand inside and they double checked that everything she brought was in her bag.

Once she was done, he pulled her back into his arms and sat them down on the couch as she yawned once more. She clutched onto him, and he felt faint tremors start to shake her body.

It was obvious that this Task was bothering her more than she let on.

“I wish you all of the luck in the world, my darling dearest,” he whispered to her just before she faded away.

As he always did after she left, he whispered three words that caused his heart to simultaneously soar high into the atmosphere, and crumble to the deepest depths of the ocean.

“I love you.”

* * *

_Thursday, February 23, 1995_

_ Location Undisclosed_

“You will get me the items we need, yes?”

When he hesitated in answering, his Master’s eyes narrowed. “You love your daughter, do you not?”

“Yes—of course, I do.”

“Then you will get those items.”

“Yes . . . my Lord.” It still burned to say that title. It burned, but somewhere, somehow, the words sparked—

“Good. I want them as soon as you can get them without making a scene.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

It’s all for her. For her for her for her for her—

For Eden.

Green eyes.

Daughter.

Eden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you guys liked it. 
> 
> I realized that I have the names of deities and I never say who they are. Welp. Lord Erif (in Wake Up) is the god of Fire. I took the name from another one of my stories that never really went anywhere, and it's just fire spelled backwards. Lady Clementia is the goddess of Forgiveness in Roman mythology. And, I've probably forgotten some . . . Let me know and I'll tell you.
> 
> PS: Every time I try and type mermaid (except for that time) I try and put an n instead of a d. It is far FAR too early to be posting on as little sleep as I got. :)


	22. 21 The Second Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed some things.

_Friday, February 24, 1995_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

Eden opened her eyes and held her breath for a moment.

After a few seconds, she came to a conclusion, and leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom where she proceeded to violently throw up into the toilet. She was unaware of how long she sat there after she finished, and stared blankly into the depths with tears in her eyes. 

Soft footsteps padded in behind her, and then hands were on her back. They rubbed up and down gently, and she continued to sob into the porcelain bowl before she was pulled away.

Pansy helped her out of the bathroom and into the dorm room where she was greeted with the sight of her dorm mates—her closest friends—and Snakey-Snape. The man immediately opened his arms, and she ran into them. He pulled her close as she sobbed into his chest and clung desperately to him.

While she had Lucius, Remus, and Sirius—who was a blood-father (the Godfather Ritual required him to blood-adopt her and Leif)—Snakey-Snape was the man whom she truly thought of as her father. It wasn’t a decision that had been consciously made. After all, the last person she thought of as father had betrayed her in quite possibly the worst ways possible.

But she had realized just shortly after she came out of the Coma that, while she still called him Snakey-Snape in her head and to his face, in her heart, and with her friends, she called him _tata_—dad in Latin.

She suspected that he knew she thought of him this way, and perhaps maybe in some way thought of her as a niece, or perhaps—hopefully (would the self-delusions kill her?)—even as a daughter. He had never outright said anything, but, she had seen it in his actions.

She saw it in the way that he had forgiven Uncle Sirius, and Uncle Remus for all of the tormenting that they had done when they were in school. She saw it in the way that he had begun to loathe her mother. She saw it in the pure hatred that he held for her birth father, and the enmity he showed her brother.

He was always there for her.

He was always around for her.

He always gave her help when asked for, and even when not asked for.

She knew that part of it was the fact that he was her Head of House, but . . . he was how her father had once acted around her—only, he was . . . _more_. He was how Lily acted around Leif. He was how James treated her brother.

And it was _all_ directed towards her.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” she sobbed into his chest. “Please, don’t make me do this.”

His grip on her tightened, and she felt the hands of her roommates fall on her as they wrapped her in their arms as well. “If it wouldn’t cost you your magic, and therefore your Life, my child, I would do_ everything_ in my power to make it so you no longer had to compete.

“Even raise You-Know-Who?” she stuffily asked, her tone full of mocking.

“Even raise the Dark Lord.” He said it reverently. She knew he held no more allegiance to the dead man, but even so . . . . Could it be that he was really willing to do that?

For her?

She pulled her head back enough to look at his face, and see that he was entirely serious.

Well then.

“You’re the best, you know that, right?”

He smiled and gently stroked her hair. He pulled away from her after a minute more of snuggles, and wiped her face, and cleared all signs of her tears with a wave of his wand.

From the depths of his robes, he pulled out a Dark calming potion, and she tackled him in a hug before she swiped it out of his hands, and downed the strawberry-flavored potion.

The near-violent tremors in her hands, and near-crippling tremors in her spine ceased almost immediately. “I would like to reaffirm my prior statement: _you_ are the absolute _best_ . . . _tata_.”

Snakey-Snape blushed, and preened slightly before he nodded his head. “Well. It’s time to get ready. Get dressed, eat, practice if needs be. The Task is right after breakfast.”

She nodded her understanding, and the man was gone with a dramatic swish of his robes. “He’s so fun to fluster, isn’t he?” she remarked to her friends once the door was firmly shut behind him.

Her friends laughed as they shook their heads. “Only you, Eden. Only you.”

“What? He’s my _tata_. It’s my _job_ to fluster him.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

She preened. “Thank you.”

_Great Hall_

Eden fidgeted with her fingers at the Slytherin table while Blaise dropped a mutilated strawberry into her oatmeal.

“Man, you did that wrong,” Theo admonished as he placed three perfectly sliced strawberries into the enlarged bowl.

“I did my best, okay?” the dark-skinned boy snarled while he brandished his knife as if it were a weapon of mass destruction.

“Boys, please—” Pansy started before she cut off her words, the threat clear in her voice. She dropped a perfectly sliced banana into the oatmeal and preened slightly, even though it ultimately went unnoticed by the bowl’s owner.

Daphne dropped in even chunks of a nectarine.

Tracy dropped in a mutilated peach.

Millie dropped in a subpar shredded green apple—they were supposed to be chunks.

Ambrosia Smith added grapes.

Septimus Pride dropped in blue berries while Evanius Rosier practically climbed on top of him to drop in five raspberries. Their playful bickering also, went unnoticed by the bowl’s owner.

Antony leaned across the table—they were once more forced into the Queen’s spot (by the Queen herself)—and sprinkled brown sugar on the mess.

Diana Nuvoue—the Queen of Slytherin, who had just gotten out of the hospital wing a couple days prior because she took a curse meant for Eden—poured thick, maple syrup onto the concoction before she added honey and Unicorn Milk. Where she got the Milk, Eden would never know—although, there had been rumors last year that her father owned a semi-legal unicorn farm.

“Eat up,” Antony commanded after a minute of Eden just anxiously looking around.

She blinked a few times before she picked up a spoon and made sure to get a little bit of everything—as much as she could, at least—before she ate it. The sweetness of the fruits counteracted the natural bitterness of the Milk, and the honey, syrup, and brown sugar added a subtle sweetness to the extremely salty liquid.

Unicorn Milk was _extremely_ expensive, semi-rare, and had _amazing_ health benefits. The main benefit that a witch or wizard could get from the liquid, was it stabilized a stressed magical Core—be it from overuse or emotional trauma. As always, it was important to note, that it didn’t make the Core grow, it just kept the Core from accidentally killing the witch or wizard, and also prevented Lash-Back, which, more often than not, _killed_ the witch and wizard it hit.

Some other benefits, while not entirely proven, were: clear skin, cured the flu—the only other sickness next to Dragon Pox, muggle cancer, and Mystic Madness that wizarding kind hadn’t figured out a cure to yet—and even made it easier to remember things.

She hoped that that one was true, but, considering her luck, it wasn’t.

She had never had it before, due to the price—even though with her allowance, she could probably afford a large glass a week—but also _mainly_ due to the fact that the only people who really consumed Unicorn Milk were high magic users like Aurors, duelers, and Unspeakables, along with others who used large amounts of magic on a daily basis.

She began to understand just _why_ that was.

Eden reached for her glass of pumpkin juice while she ate, and nearly died when she discovered that it had been replaced with Milk. She quickly washed down the soul-crushingly _disgusting_ liquid with some breakfast—she made sure to get as little Milk, and as many fruits as possible—before she glared at the two seventh years who were laughing from across from her.

“A warning would have been nice,” she hissed before she shoved another large spoonful into her mouth.

“Oh, but sweetie, where would the fun be in that?” Diana asked sweetly over the laughing of their housemates.

Eden rolled her eyes, and continued to eat and drink—unfortunately—while she continued to peak over the heads of those around her.

“What are you looking for, dear?” Antony asked after the fifth time she practically stood on her seat.

“Draco. Have any of you seen him?”

Heads were shaken, and her lips pulled to the side as she frowned.

_Draco, where are you? I need you._

_Black Lake_

Eden huddled in her cloak, and her teeth chattered as she came to stand next to Cedric. “You think they’d do a water challenge in the s-summer,” she stuttered as an icy wind blew through her.

The boy—man (man-boy?)—laughed before he smiled at her. He was one of the few people who didn’t seem to care that she was a Champion—he didn’t hex her, but, he also didn’t outright _help_ her either. She also suspected that he was one of the reasons that the older Hufflepuff’s had laid off of her after the whole Coma thing.

“Yes, you’d think so.” He shivered as well, and laughed once more. “Warming charms would certainly help, but, I’m utter crap at them.”

Her face lit up, and she cast the spell on both of them, not really thinking about her actions. He stared at her in awe for a moment before he nodded his thanks. Their attentions were quickly diverted by their Mentors as they were all pulled to the side.

“Please, please, _please_, tell me you have a plan,” Snakey-Snape hissed as he pressed his hands into her shoulders and slightly shook her.

She couldn’t help but smirk at him. “As _I_ recall, Snakey-Snape, you once said that I have fifteen different plans for the simplest of scenarios. Why are you panicking this time?” she questioned and tilted her head to the side. The tails of her seven Dutch-braids rustled in the wind, and blew over her shoulder after a particularly hard gust of it.

“Because the last time you insisted you had a plan, you were in a _Magical Coma_ for two months!” he responded in a low hiss. Her hair whipped him in the face after another gust of wind, and he pushed her braids behind her once more. “Just, please, Eden. I beg of you. Do you have a plan?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry, Snakey-Snape. I have a plan. I’m actually feeling more confidant for this Task than the last Task, now that I’m calm. Everything is going to be fine.”

He sighed softly in relief. “I’ll believe that fully once I see it, but . . . I will trust you. For now.” She nodded her thanks. “Is that what you’re going to be wearing?” he asked a few moments later.

She spotted Mad-Eye walking towards them, and sent a wandless tripping hex at him. She did _not_ want to deal with Crazy-Face.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” she admonished playfully, “no, it’s not. I just find it a little too cold for me to take my robes off just yet, even with the warming charm on my skin.” She carefully made sure that her bag with its many new protection charms and spells on it was still situated against her right hip. She had presents in it that she wanted to give to Tom, and _that_ was the day that she remembered.

Sigh.

Dumbles voice echoed around them, and she had to repress the urge to hex him. “Well, it’s time to take it off and cancel the warming charm.”

She groaned, before she did as she was instructed. Once the charm was canceled, she pulled off her long, black robes to reveal a dark green halter bikini top—similar to the one she wore when practicing with Tom—and silvery-green swim-shorts that went to mid-thigh. A wand holster was attached to the top of her right arm, and the handle of her wand brushed against the heel of her hand when she flexed it.

She ignored the painful jeers she got from the stands, and when she turned to stand next to Cedric, caught her brother’s eyes. The anger in them didn’t surprise her.

The hatred did.

She stared at him for a second longer before she moved next to Cedric once more after she handed her robes off to Snakey-Snape.

“Ready?” he asked. He eyed her lean muscles with confusion—it wasn’t common for witches or wizards to have muscles if they didn’t require it.

Apparently, being Tom’s best friend required it—it didn’t matter that they now dated, this entire thing had started before that fateful night in December.

She looked at Cedric with a furrowed brow, completely unimpressed with the judgement before she smirked. “I was born ready.”

She really wasn’t, but . . . there was absolutely no need for him to know that.

The canon soon went off, and Eden was off without pausing to cast any spells like the other Champions. The moment she touched the water, however, her wand was in her hand, and she began to cast the many swimming spells and charms that she and Tom had worked tirelessly on—they could only be cast underwater.

Along with the spells to help her swim faster, stronger, and further, she cast spells to help her see underwater, and to withstand the pressure of deep diving. Soon, she soared through the water as if she were on a broom in the air—not that she’d _ever_ do something so foolish.

She stared in awe at her surrounding as she swam to the bottom of the lake, her mind and soul completely baffled at what she saw. It was also, at that moment, that she began to _really_ curse her attraction to shiny things—really, _she_ should have the magpie Spirit Guardian, not Tom.

Every hundred or so yards, she’d get _severely_ distracted by something that caught on the light, and she’d have to—not want to, _needed_ to—go look and see what it was.

She would _definitely_ come back after the Task.

She shook her head and tore her eyes away from the glittering diamond ring she had spotted and swam away—_success!_—only to swim back—_failure_—and put the ring on her finger—_success_? The thick band shrunk to fit her slim finger, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it would work if she would try to put it on her wrist.

She shook her head and continued on with the Task.

She would most _definitely_ come back, even if she died.

_Especially_ if she died.

She would haunt the lake and hoard—_focus, Eden!_ (strangely, it sounded like Tom’s voice).

She was finally able to swim away from the Trove of Glittery Things, and shot off to another dip in the lake bottom. The pressure of the water made her ears pop, even with all of the spells she had cast to protect herself against that kind of thing—she must have cast them wrong. She paused, looked around, and when she was sure she was alone, recast the spells, and the pressure eased only slightly. She cast them a few more times, yet nothing changed.

She must be too deep.

She shrugged her shoulders and continued on, and nearly groaned when she came to another dip in the lake bottom. Seriously, how deep _was_ the Black Lake? As she swam at high speeds, bubbles were left in a long trail behind her.

A sharp pain blossomed in her back, and she screamed.

She turned and raised her wand, ready to defend herself against some kind of sea monster, only to be filled with a hellish and unholy rage when her eyes fell upon Viktor.

She _hated_ him.

He paled under her gaze, but held his ground with his wand pointed at her. It would have been _slightly_ more intimidating if he didn’t quake. And if he didn’t have a wiggly bubble spanning the bottom half of his face.

She aimed her wand, and bright ball of white built up on the tip of it before it shot at him and hit the bridge of his nose, before it spanned both of his eyes like a spider web. It sunk into his skin, and he began to claw earnestly at his eyes.

She was content with his punishment, as he’d be stuck there for at least five minutes—at most ten—unable to see a thing. If something attacked him while he was blinded, well . . . . Who would they believe? The girl who was _obviously_ injured by a type of cutting spell, or the boy who cast the spell that injured the girl and who also happened to be uninjured by _any_ type of Magic himself?

She thought the answer was obvious.

Eden continued on her trek to the bottom, and used the pain in her back as a focuser, and quickly found what could be the treasure.

Treasure?

What _treasure_?

She didn’t see, _treasure_. She saw something completely different.

Hostages.

When it finally and fully processed what it was that she stared at, cold, cruel rage filled her body before her thick magic shot out in a Raw Wave that had everything bowing before it as it raged for her.

_Spectator Stands_

Severus stared at the dark water as his body thrummed with agitation and concern as he stared at the lightly rippling surface. If he thought that the last challenge was bad—being forced to watch the girl he saw as family go up against an XXXXX class Magical Creature—than the Second Task was utter _Hell_ not knowing what was happening to her.

It was only made worse by the fact that he had the knowledge of _exactly_ what type of creatures lived in the Lake and what morals they held themselves to.

His stomach churned, and he Prayed to the Olde gods that he would be able to keep his meager breakfast down.

He was brought out of the monotony of worry, fear, and nausea, when, almost as if a muggle bomb had gone off underwater, the surface of the lake about 500 yards in front of him rose roughly nine feet in a large, wide dome before it fell with a violent crash as Magic escaped the middle of what was apparently a bubble.

Waves shook the piers they were on, and whispers broke out around him.

)()()(

His hand slipped into his robe pocket, and gripped the glass vial.

_What happened down there?_

His grip tightened.

_Is Eden okay?_

The glass shuttered under his grip.

_Is my daughter alive?_

He let go of it before it could shatter and ruin everything.

_Bottom of the Black Lake_

Eden inhaled deeply, and tightened her grip on her holly wand before she swam forward and incinerated the rope that tethered Draco to the strange stage-looking thing. She swam through the burning bubbles and wrapped her arms around him and started for the surface.

The spells that surrounded and protected her, extended to him without a thought.

The Drain began.

_Stands_

Three minutes later, Eden and Draco broke the semi-smooth surface of the water, and he started to cough as water dripped down his face. She spit out the water that had made its way into her mouth and wiped her braids out of her armpit, while Draco wiped the hair out of his face.

Together the two fourth years swam towards the docks that seemed a million miles away. They eventually made it, and the two were helped up onto the wood, and magicked towels and blankets wrapped around them immediately. They were thick and warmed, and felt like nice, warm hugs. Healers swarmed Draco.

“Are you alright?” Frantic hands were on her face and neck as they angled her head back.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said wearily, “I’m just a bit cold. Thank you, thank you, alright—enough already, _tata_!” The man intent on smothering her leaned back onto his heels. “You should check on Draco. He was down there longer than I was.”

She was wrapped in his arms, and a kiss was placed on her wet hair before he did as requested, and the two began to fidget over Draco.

After the teen shoved them away with a fond grimace, Eden spoke. “I’m so glad you’re alive! I was so worried this morning when I couldn’t find you, and then I was so angry when I saw you chained to the bottom of the Lake, and—” She cut off and wrapped her arms around him once more, and her magic started to snap around at those who tried to approach the trio.

She dutifully ignored the sharp pain in her back when he hugged her close, and once again when Snakey-Snape wrapped his arms around the both of them.

It was both amazing, and completely awful what adrenaline could do to a person.

The surface of the Lake was broken once again, and the three pulled away to see Fleur floating in a cloud of red. She was panicked, crying, and obviously extremely injured. She was pulled out of the water, and the healers ignored her cries of pain. She was quickly fussed over by the healers and her schoolmates.

“The little girl,” Eden whispered after a moment. She remembered seeing Draco, Granger, Chang, and a little blonde girl she hadn’t seen before. She glanced at the clock, and frowned thoughtfully when she saw there was only twenty minutes left in the challenge.

If she didn’t get distracted—not likely—and didn’t run into anything—again, not likely—she could be in and out just before the challenge ended—once more, _not likely_.

But . . . what would Tom do? Would he go and save the girl he didn’t know, or would he stay with whomever he rescued?

_ . . . too late it’s gone . . . _

While she thought, she had been looking at the French girl. Fleur looked to her and Draco before pure horror dawned on her face. “No,” she whispered, “not Gabrielle.”

_ . . . it won’t come back._

She stumbled to her feet, and towards the edge of the pier, her face contorted into one of pain, as she dropped the blood-soaked towel off of her trembling shoulders.

Screw it.

All who were watching the injured blonde, were shocked when, with a shout from another blonde, Eden stood, and was already in the water before anyone could do anything about it.

“Uncle Severus,” Draco said after a moment, horror clear in his voice.

“Yes, Draco, what is it?”

“Eden’s hurt.”

All eyes turned to the fluffy white towel, which had a long, light red line that went in a straight diagonal. The man hissed as fear ate him whole once more.

The injury wasn’t from a creature. With a wave of his wand, he saw the Magic Residue in the blood, and knew immediately that it had been a Curse that she was injured by, and after Scanning the Residue, either her magic was keeping her from bleeding out, or the Curse was _eating_ her magic.

“That idiot girl!”

All chose to either ignore, or heed the panic in his voice.

_Black Lake_

Eden kept her eyes focused and in front of her, her breathing even, and her mind on the blonde girl she was going to attempt to save.

_Why are you so foolish, love?_ (did Tom do a voice transplant into her head?)

She swam past Krum, and she swam past Cedric, but paid the two—four—no mind as she continued in her foolish quest.

Tom was going to _kill_ her—_yes, yes, I am_ (stop that!)

Gabrielle.

Ignore the voice in her head, and get Gabrielle.

Something glittered in the corner of her eye, and she paused. _No. No shiny. Eden Potter! No! Shiny! No! Bad! Stop! **GABRIELLE**!_

Eventually—it took her _much_ longer than she’d be willing to admit (there are _far_ too many shiny things in the Lake). Like seriously, what do people _do_? Sacrifice their sparkles? _Why_? She felt like hitting people over the head and lecturing them on the importance of glitter.

But not right now.

_Eventually_, she made it back to where the hostages—‘treasures’—had been kept. She bit down her anger once more before she swam up to the girl and pulled her wand to shoot a cutting hex at the rope to free her.

Time ran out.

The only reason that she knew with a surety that the time was indeed up, was because the Grindylows that hovered on the outskirts of the throne-like structure, convened on the two young girls.

After the shock wore off—two seconds—she shot the intended cutting hex at the rope and wrapped her hand around the upper arm of the younger girl before she started to fight the creatures while the merpeople did nothing but watch on with disinterest.

As she ascended, many illegal curses, hexes, and jinxes left her wand tip, and the water around her lit up as they either made their mark, or missed and destroyed something else.

(she was unaware of the fact that the light of her powerful spells could be seen from the piers, and that many people—especially Severus—were starting to panic)

Slowly—far, far too slowly—the Grindylow’s numbers started to decline—along with her magic levels—but, as they did so, their viciousness increased with each death. She swam up a few more feet, and a pained scream left her mouth as a trident spike slashed into her back.

It seemed that the merpeople were no longer bystanders in the impromptu war.

As her magic started to swirl around the slashes on her back, her back arched again, and she almost lost her grip on Gabrielle when another trident cut into her back. She blinked away the black spots in her vision, and tried to swim away, only to receive two more deep cuts—this time on her stomach. She inhaled deeply, and wrapped a shield around the unconscious girl and pushed her up towards the surface that seemed to be an eternity and a half away.

She hoped at least one of them would make it.

Something hit her head, and she winced before her world went dark.

* * *

_Saturday, February 24, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

She opened her eyes and glared at Tom’s room, her head only slightly foggy.

Until it wasn’t.

“Tom!” she shrieked. Panic filled her when she remembered exactly _why_ she was in the middle of his room, in the middle of the night—day. She ran forward and shook his groggy form. “Wake up!”

“Eden?” he groaned. “What’s wrong? Why are you wet?” He woke up. “You’re bleeding, what—”

“Wake me up, Tom!”

“What? Why? I need to heal you!”

“You need to wake me up because I’m at the bottom of the Black Lake surrounded by blood-thirsty Grindylows and pissed off merpeople. Now, wake me the _bloody hell_ up, Tom!”

He nodded his head, and stared into her eyes as he lifted his wand. “Remember: you can _fly_, Eden,” he said calmly, and then waved his wand. She nodded her head, and her frantic thoughts calmed.

* * *

_Friday, February 24, 1995_

_ Black Lake_

There were more injures.

Her eyes opened, and burned at the amount of blood that clouded around her. She looked at her arms, and was displeased to see two more cuts on her right arm, and three on her left. Pain wracked her body, and she looked around, and saw that she had sunk nearly back down to the bottom of the Lake.

She screamed, and with a flourish of her wand, was able to send her attackers back far enough, that she was able to wrap her magic around her feet, and rocket towards the surface. She grabbed a hold of Gabrielle along the way, and held the taller girl close as she consciously wrapped her magic around her too.

A sharp pain in her left foot made her look down. Besides the fact that a spear now _impaled_ her foot, she also noticed that about fifty creatures were hot on her trail. She forced herself to go faster despite the heavy Drain already on her Core, and soon she and Gabrielle broke the surface of the Lake.

Without the added friction, the two shot up at a rapid pace before she was able to stop and hover about 20 feet above the now violently churning water. Grindylows filled up ten of the feet between her and the water as they desperately reached for the two.

She pointed her wand, and with a shouted illegal_ish_ spell, a bright blue ball of light left her wand and sent the creatures scrambling back into the water to collect their dead—the ones who had died in the air had turned to mist.

She hovered for a few more moments with the young girl attached painfully tight to her before black spots appeared in her vision from blood loss and magical Drain.

She ignored the violent roaring of the crowd as she turned towards the piers. She slowly flew over to the wooden structure, and when they were twenty feet away, fell along with Gabrielle ten feet to the churning water as she used the very last ounce of her magic. People scrambled to catch the pair with spells and failed.

The blonde fell on top of the raven-haired girl, and Eden began to sink before Gabrielle dove down and grabbed her and pulled her above the water. She spit the water out of her mouth, and the two weakly treaded water before Snakey-Snape, Draco, and Cedric were in the water and pulling them out, and laying them on the pier.

Her vision swam as people hovered over her. They were shoved away, and large hands were on her face. “You _foolish_ little girl,” Snakey-Snape hissed thickly as he held her head in his hands. Both ignored the drops of water that fell from his hair and onto her face.

“I’m sorry . . . _tata_,” she whispered. Draco came to hover over her as well—Gabrielle and Fleur had been thanking him. “I couldn’t let her die . . . . They attacked the moment that time ran out . . . they attacked before I even got to her.”

Before the darkness in the corners of her eyes took over, she saw the horror on his and Draco’s face when what she said registered.

It appeared that the Challenge wasn’t as safe as previously assured.

_Location Undisclosed_

He didn’t care about the racket he made when he slammed the door open. He ignored the two men in the room, and swiftly moved to stand in front of the occupied chair. He threw a blood-soaked towel on the floor, and dropped a glass vial with a singular, long black hair on top of it.

“I got the hair. Will the blood work?”

It was silent as his Master contemplated. “No. I have done further research since we last spoke. It must be fresh. Taken straight from her veins, and immediately placed into the cauldron. I doubt a stasis charm will do what is needed.”

He groaned. “I did this to _save_ my daughter. How is bringing her to you going to save her?”

“Revenge.”

His Master clearly didn’t understand _who_ his daughter was.

That didn’t surprise him.

“I—_What_?”

“You want revenge, yes? Against those who have wronged your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will bring her to me, and revenge shall be brought upon all of those who dared to harm her.”

_Even you?_

“Why? Why would you bring revenge for her?”

“Because I once knew a girl whom I would have burned the world for, had she only asked. She was the one person who was better than me in every way that mattered.”

“You loved her.”

“Yes.” There was a distinct wistful tone in his voice.

“You still love her.”

Something dark crossed the Dark Lord’s face, before it faded as he stroked the feathers of a slightly larger than normal raven. “With my entire soul. And that, that is why I am willing to exact revenge for your daughter. All I need in exchange to do so, is Noah Potter.” He bit his lips to keep the tears from falling. “Do we have a deal?”

_No._

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it. I love hearing your feedback and opinions. Your comments seriously make me smile until my face hurts. Honestly, I think my family is a little tired of it, because I also squeal...a lot...heh...


	23. 22 Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for all of the wonderful comments, they really made my day/week. I hope you all had a wonderful week celebrating either holidays or just having time off of work. 
> 
> I fell asleep around 2, woke up at 3:30 from a night terror that I have absolutely no idea what it was about, only that it is now 4:45 and I can finally breathe once more. So, I decided since sleep is a huge No-No for the next 16 hours AT LEAST, I'd post early. 
> 
> This chapter answers questions.
> 
> By the way Crystal, here are the cookies I promised you. (I didn't even have to work to add them because they were in the first draft *stupidly proud of myself*)
> 
> Have fun in the Dark side. We have cookies now.

_Saturday, February 24, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“Pensive. Now.”

The hissed demand was made the moment she reappeared in his room, a mere fifteen minutes after she left it—although to him, it wouldn’t have been fifteen minutes (she wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought it might have been around twenty minutes for him, maybe a bit less).

She laughed softly. “Are you sure that I’m actually safe to do so?” she questioned wearily. Despite the Core deep exhaustion that she had never felt before, and the fact that she was on the cusp of passing out—never mind the fact that she _couldn’t_ do that while with him—she couldn’t help but tease him.

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you?” he hissed.

Huh. She thought he would have been more worried. “I’m out of the water if that’s what you’re asking. However, we do need to account for the fact that I am currently surrounded by pissed off schoolmates and bleeding out.”

He paled—_there_ he was—before he ran to her and started to check her over. He started chanting and she did nothing to stop him as red mist—that she now knew was actually fine drops of his blood mixed with Raw Dark Magic—oozed out of his wand and around her injuries.

He stepped close and caught her as the soul-scorching fire faded, and her body turned to jelly. “What happened?” he demanded as he laid her down on his bed. He climbed in next to her and pulled her close and held her painfully tight—well, it would be painful if she could actually _feel_.

“I was stupid. Foolish. I made a huge mistake,” she whispered before she broke out into sobs. “I was so scared, Tom—” She proceeded to explain that the treasures were people, and that she had gone to save the last one after Flower had gotten injured.

She shakily described how the Grindylow’s had attacked just as the time had finished, and the mess that had come from that. “If I hadn’t saved her, she would have _died_, Tom. She wasn’t even a _competitor_ and she _almost died_!”

He pressed the tip of his wand into her stomach, right in the center of her Core, and pulled away a moment later with a frown contorting his beautiful face. “You are completely Drained, Eden. What the _hell_ did you do?”

She grabbed her own wand and pressed the tip of it to her temple and pulled out a wispy blue strand before she handed it to him. He reluctantly untangled himself from her with a playful groan before he moved to the pensieve and watched the memory she willingly gave him.

While he watched the Task, she reached into her bag and pulled out a purple Gringotts pouch that she had removed all of the charms from—no thanks to Lucius and Narcissa—and wandlessly levitated it over to his nightstand—that was not one of her best ideas, as her vision temporarily turned black as she manipulated the pouch and the nightstand.

After she slipped it inside the top drawer where the diary typically lived, she closed her eyes and counted her breathing and easily fell into the closest state of sleep that she could achieve while she was with Tom.

Sometime later, she was jolted ‘awake’ when Tom climbed back into the bed next to her and slipped the memory back into her mind. She held onto his hand as she relived the Second Task all over again. She squeezed her eyes tight and a few tears slipped out. He pressed his lips to her cheeks and kissed away the tears.

“I am so proud of you, and so infuriated with everyone else, that I am _beyond_ words. Not to mention I’m going to _kill_ that _boy_ who dared to Curse you. I can’t believe he’d cast something so dangerous.”

She smiled softly and tried turning onto her side from her back to face him, and only succeeded when he wrapped his arms around her and maneuvered her. She reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You need to sleep, Tom. And I need to recover. Can we leave the scolding until later?”

He laughed softly and gently returned the kiss as he bundled her closer. The covers they laid on top of magically covered them as he pressed another slow kiss to her mouth.

“Yes, of course, we can.”

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Several hours later found Eden and Tom on the couch while he ate breakfast and she nuzzled his neck. They hadn’t spoken yet, even though he had woken up nearly an hour prior, and had just basked in each other’s presence. The book on Bard Magic she had been reading was long forgotten on his bed. “How are you feeling?” he eventually asked after he finished his breakfast full of magic enhancing foods.

She shrugged slightly and curled into him. “Stupidly weak and empty, but other than that I feel mostly fine. Am I still Drained?”

He paused for a moment before he pressed his wand to her Core and Scanned it. He pulled away with a frown. “It seems that your Core is a little over one third of the way recovered, but . . . it’s also Expanded by an alarming amount.”

“What do you mean?”

“How to explain . . .” he trailed off as he looked at the ceiling. “You have two apples of equal sizes, okay? You leave one, and cut the other into fifths. The whole apple is your Core before the Task, and the cut up one is your Core doubled. If you were to take two of those fifths and add it to your Core, that’s how much it’s Expanded.”

“Oh . . . why . . . . Why did it grow so much?”

“There have been debates about this all the way back to Ancient Egypt, after the Fae left us and took their knowledge with them. There are some treatises that I’ve read that have debated the growth of a young witch or wizards Core when they are in life threatening situations. Some say that the Core Expands permanently, others say that it’s only Expanded for a temporary amount of time.

“The one that I’ve read that makes the most sense is that it first explains that the Core is always growing, and that it’s like exercising a muscle. It Expands with tears, and it won’t Expand without tears. It goes on to suggest that if a young witch or wizard is in a life-threatening situation that Drains them completely of their magic, that it will grow a significant amount to protect them in case it happens again in the future.”

“Why?”

“I heard it once explained that Magic is like a parasite, only instead of killing the host, it will do everything in its power to protect the host. It appears that this fits what just happened. You were in a _very_ life-threatening situation, and you Drained your Core completely trying to protect yourself.”

“But . . . if that’s true, why didn’t my Core Expand immediately after the First Task?”

“It’s simple: you didn’t completely Drain your Core. You just received an insane amount of damage, and because of how long it took for the initial healing after the damage was inflicted, your magic put you into a Coma to protect you and itself. It didn’t see the need to Expand to protect you, only the need to keep you safe.

“It must have felt that the potions were no longer keeping you healthy and decided that it would be safer to risk you up and about than in the isolation it put you in.”

“How do you know all of this?” she asked as she started to run her fingers through his hair.

He sighed and leaned into her touch. “I’ve done research on it. After you were gone . . . I needed to find out why you were in a Coma, and those were the only explanations that made any amount of sense, with all things considered.”

“Do you think, that maybe my magic sensed that I was stronger after training with you for all of that time, and Expanding my Core that way and decided that I was safe then?”

He was silent as he thought. “It’s a possibility. A very high possibility now that I think about it.”

“Did you happen to find out what a Magical Coma _was_ while you were doing all of that research?” she asked after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of them.

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “No. It must be something that was discovered later. There were some cases that implied something similar, where a young witch or wizard in a coma couldn’t be touched, but, I don’t think that it was the same thing as a Magical Coma.”

“Why not?” she nuzzled his neck and breathed in his unique and slightly smoky scent. It had changed from the first time she met him, and now instead of being a minty smoke scent, it was now that, only it had a heavy dose of ozone with it.

He didn’t answer, and it was only after she prodded a few—fifteen—more times that he finally did. “I don’t think they’re the same, because those in the coma never woke up.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest and her stomach completely disappeared. “What?”

He pulled her close. “They died three to six months after they went into the coma. Nothing the healers could do could get them out of it.”

Eden’s heart pounded painfully in her chest, and she broke out into a light sweat. It took Tom telling her that she was awake—semantics—and fine, and _alive_, multiple times before the panic finally subsided. “What if they _are_ the same thing though?” she demanded once her thoughts were clear. “If I hadn’t been with you, training, I would have _died_, Tom.”

He grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers in a desperate kiss. His tongue swept along the length of her own before he pulled away. “You are _not_ going to die, Eden. I’m not going to _let_ you_ die_, Eden. Do you understand? You are _mine_, **for eternity**. Do you understand?”

She nodded as she stared into his oceanic eyes. “**For eternity**.”

* * *

_Sunday, February 25, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

Eden yawned.

In response to that very natural and _not at all_ life-threatening phenomenon, she squeaked softly and clutched onto Tom as if that would prevent her from waking up. “Don’t make me go!” she whined through another deep yawn.

Tom chuckled and put his book to the side. “Darling, you need to go. Your Core is fully healed, and we don’t want them sending you back to St. Mungo’s, now do we?”

“But—I’ve been here for _24 hours_, Tom! You’re going to be alone—” she yawned “—for like—three days!” Exhaustion quickly crept up on her and she desperately fought it.

“Two days, darling.”

She scowled and yawned wide. Her eyes watered, and he kissed away the tears. “But—” Before she could protest further, he pressed his lips to hers and slipped his tongue into her mouth near immediately. He wrapped it languidly around her own and rolled over so she was pinned to the bed beneath him.

“No buts, my love. Sleep. Sleep, and soon you shall see me again.”

She groaned, yawned once more, and closed her eyes. Just as she faded away, she heard three words she didn’t think she was meant to hear.

“I love you.”

* * *

_Monday, February 27, 1995_

_ Hospital Wing_

_I love you._

Eden shot up and with gasping breaths as her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, and the three words echoed near painfully in her head.

_I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you._

_I love you, too._

_Why_ did she have to wake up right then?

She needed to say it _back_.

“Miss Potter. It’s good to see you awake again so soon. How do you feel?” Through the rapid thoughts in her head and burning feelings in her chest, she blinked her eyes, startled to see Madam P as she stood right next to her.

“I—uh—I feel—uh—” She paused with her head tilted to the side and her left brow slightly furrowed as she noted that the usual answer of ‘fine’ was actually _not_ correct. It didn’t describe exactly _how_ she felt in _any_ accurate sense of the word.

She felt…_something_.

She wasn’t entirely sure _what_ it was, only that it made her feel good. “I uh—I feel good._ Really_ good, actually. Really great . . . I feel . . . _different_.” She looked at her hands and body and noticed nothing different, but she indeed felt _very_ different. “Like a good different, you know? Like, like, like . . .”

“Like you could take on the entire world and win?”

“Yes!” she agreed as she perked up at the woman’s suggestion. Her brow furrowed once more and her head tilted to the right this time as her shoulders slumped. “Why is that?”

Madam P laughed softly and sat on the bed next to hers, and she turned to face the matron fully. “Your Core grew by almost half of what it was. It makes sense that you would feel that way. You might also find that you’ll have issues controlling your magic now, until you get used to the Expansion of your Core.”

“Do _you_ know why my Core grew?”

“There are many theories, but nothing concrete.” She proceeded to explain the theories that Tom had given her, only they were more than slightly dumbed down. She wasn’t _that_ stupid. “Does that makes sense?”

Unfortunately.

She could have used bigger words. “Yes, it does.”

“I’ll be running some tests on you today and tomorrow to make sure that everything is alright, but it seems like everything is fine, dear.”

The woman stood to leave, and Eden panicked for a moment, and the air thickened with it, and her eyes began to burn. “Wait—! Is there a chance that I could go back into a Magical Coma again?” she asked once she had the woman’s attention again.

The matron smiled comfortingly at her with a hint of pity and assurance in her eyes. “Oh, no, sweetie. You’re not going to go back into the Coma.”

She turned to leave once more. “What _is_ a Magical Coma?” The woman paused and remained silent as she turned back to Eden with her face uncomfortably blank. “_Please_, Madam Pomfrey, I _need_ to know. I can’t sleep at night because I’m so scared of going back into it. I don’t even know what it is or what causes it to prevent it from happening again.” She blinked the Tears out of her eyes, and hoped that she succeeded, and that there weren’t black smudges by her eyelashes.

Madam P sighed and returned to the bed that she had previously occupied. “A Magical Coma is where a witch or wizard has survived an . . . _event_ that they shouldn’t have been able to, and their magic hides them away in their mind and body in a foolish attempt at protection. There is no . . . _known_ way to force them to wake up. Either they’ll wake up on their own, or they won’t.”

Her eyes narrowed at the obvious information gaps, but assented that it sounded similar to what Tom had found. “And . . . how often does one in a Magical Coma wake up on their own?”

Madam Pomfrey was silent for a moment. “No one has.”

She felt as if she had been punched in the gut. “What about me?” She almost instinctively grabbed her right wrist and pressed her thumb against the small, circular, white hypertrophic scar that rested on top of a small vein.

The woman was silent for so long that she was about to repeat the question when she began to speak. “There was an unknown potion Attached to your Core when they were doing tests before and after you woke up. That was why you were kept under observation for so long. We were trying to discern the effects of it. The day that I let you out, was the third day that your Core was clear of all foreign Magic.”

She felt like she was falling into a deep dark tunnel with nothing to catch her at the bottom—as if she were falling into the cosmos. “Do you—” she swallowed and blinked the tears out of her eyes with a silent spell. “—did you figure it out?”

_I’m so sorry . . . _She couldn’t remember who had spoken. Who was that?

“We believe someone developed a potion to force someone out of a Magical Coma. We also believe . . . that whoever did it . . . both developed . . . and tested it . . . illegally.”

Bile rose in the back of her throat with such an acidic burn that no spell could possibly repair the damage—pain hurt stop _help—_it wrought upon her flesh. “They tested it on me . . . didn’t they?”

It wasn’t a question.

“We believe so, yes.” The woman had reverted back to her training and now refused to look at her. Eden saw the tears in the woman’s eyes as she rapidly blinked.

“Why did no one tell me?”

“We weren’t entirely sure what it was at the time and didn’t—”

“I mean about the Coma. Why did no one tell me about the Coma?”

She wished she had _never_ known about that damn potion.

“We didn’t want to worry you, but, if what you said about your sleeping habits is to be believed, we just did the opposite.”

She nodded her head and a part of her wondered when she stopped feeling guilty about lying to those she was close to. “Thank you for telling me now. I’m sure I will sleep much better now.”

As soon as the medi-witch was in her office, Eden was off of the bed and in the bathroom. She heaved yellow bile into the porcelain bowl and wondered if someone had turned her tears to some corrosive potion and didn’t tell her.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

“You child of a banshee I am going to brutally kill you and I am going to laugh and eat cookies while doing so.”

Eden looked up from her light lunch and lifted a brow as she gazed at Draco. “Is it that time of the month, darling?”

He paused for a moment before pure rage shattered his already cracked Mask. “Oh, don’t you give me that _shit_ you idiotic _bitch_!” he hissed.

Wow.

He really _was_ pissed if he was using _muggle_ curse words—Sirius was not the best influence on him (or her, really).

She pouted playfully and ignored the snickers she could hear from the hallway. “Do you need a hug?”

His hard, silver eyes watered before he launched himself at her after a singular, mercurial tear fell. The two held onto each other as they both shed tears as they finally convinced themselves that the other was safe and alive.

“I’m going to kill you,” he whispered through choked gasps.

A wet laugh left her throat and she nodded against his shoulder. “Okay. If it will make you feel better, you can kill me.”

(they both ignored the giggles from the doorway)

The two stayed in each other’s embrace for an additional 2 minutes and 46 seconds before he pulled away and flicked her on the nose. She grabbed her neck, pretended to choke for a minute, before she flopped back on the bed with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, her arm dangling over the side of the bed, while choking gasps left her throat before she finally ‘died’.

“Oh dear.”

“Darling, I think she’s dead.”

“I do believe she is.”

Eden broke her admittedly poor acting and sat up and grinned at Padfoot, Moony, and Wings. “You’re here!” she lithely leapt out of bed and launched herself towards Uncle Sirius. He caught her and hugged her as he spun her in the air, and then tossed her small frame to Uncle Remus who did the same before he put her down. She wrapped her arms around Aunt Mariea before she launched herself at the silent and brooding Snakey-Snape—who immediately softened upon receiving her attention.

“Draco, I see your . . . _murder_ attempt was unsuccessful,” he commented as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

“I found that a hug and a flick on the nose was really all that was needed.”

“Good. We have invested far too much of ourselves into this darling little hellion of ours to have her suddenly expire on us.”

She wrinkled her nose and laughed as she wrestled her way out of Snakey-Snape’s arms. “You’re so weird, Snakey-Snape.”

“You love me.”

“That I do. You’re my favorite _tata_.” He flushed a delicate pink, before he reached out and rubbed a thumb under one of her eyes. He pulled it away, and it was black. He lifted a brow, and she shrugged and sheepishly smiled.

“What about me?” Sirius whined from where he sat draped over Draco on the hospital bed. She wasn’t entirely sure what the two had been doing, but she was pretty sure it was some sort of wrestling match—it was something they did often.

“Of course! I could never forget about you. You’re my favorite dogfather, Paddy.”

“What about me?” Remus demanded softly from where he stood next to Mariea with a playful smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, that’s easy. You’re my favorite godfather.”

Sirius sputtered as his wife spoke over him. “I already know I’m your favorite godmother.” Eden nodded her head with a grin as she began to unBind her magic. She stopped when a Magical Tear streaked down her cheek, and she forced herself to reBind the magic that strained almost painfully.

When she was alone. She would let it free when she was alone.

“Does that make us the favorite Aunt and Uncle then?” Narcissa questioned from behind her.

With her magic fully Bound, she turned and hugged the two new comers. “Of course it does, Auntie Cissica and Uncle Lucy.”

The eight laughed and chatted for hours as they basked in the comfort of family, and safety.

She chose to ignore the hole from Leif's absence.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Eden curled on the bed with the sleeping aid in her hand. Why was she so nervous? She had never been nervous to sleep before, and besides that, she had been wanting to tell Tom how she’s felt about him for a while now.

Why was _now_ so different?

_Because he said it when he thought I couldn’t hear him._

What would he do if she showed up with confessions of her love for him spilling from her lips? Would he force her awake? Would he be happy?

She _hated_ all of these unknowns. She _despised_ not knowing something, and she didn’t know what—

“Miss Potter?”

She flinched and looked up from the light blue potion. “Yes, Madam Pomfrey?”

“Is everything alright?”

“I—yes. Everything’s fine. I’m just . . . not . . . too anxious to sleep.”

“Is it about the Coma still?”

“No—” she quickly scrambled for a reason and ended up with something that wasn’t entirely a lie. “—I have nightmares, sometimes, and Dreamless Sleep makes me too groggy to take it during the school year, so . . . yeah.”

Before the woman could interfere any further than she already had, she downed the sleeping aid in a large, painful gulp. Her eyes watered as the matron shook her head fondly before she walked away.

Eden fell into the past with anxiety eating away at her very Core.

* * *

_Tuesday, February 27, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

When she opened her eyes, she was in Tom’s room—like usual.

Only, instead of being there at stupid-o-clock in the morning, she was there about the time she typically left. Tom sat at his desk as he worked on something, and looked for all the world like he _hadn't_ just confessed his love to her before she fell asleep a mere 14 hours previously.

Granted, _he_ had had _two days_ to get over that little slip of his.

She didn’t know how long she stared at him, but after some time, she noticed that he continually checked his watch. After he had done it for the fifth time, in a ten minute period, she decided it was high time she spoke.

Her heart jumped in her throat as she licked her lips and then bit them. “I love you, too.”

He flinched violently—he spilled his inkpot (a first as far as she was aware)—before he turned around. He stared at her wide-eyed for a moment with his mouth dropped open. “I—you—what—pardon?—_what_?”

Her lips twitched as her heart settled back into her chest with a slightly faster than usual beat. “I love you, too,” she repeated.

He cleared his throat and scratched behind his ear and bit his lip—(stop that stomach, _now_!)—before he cleared his throat once more and swallowed. It was then that she decided that this might have been the best decision she had ever made, or will ever make.

“I—I—I,” he cleared his throat once more. “I—I heard—heard that . . . the uh . . . the way, um . . . the, uh, the—the—the, uh, _way_ that you, uh—ahem—uh—uh . . . uh . . . _said_ that,” his voice squeaked, and she had to pinch herself to keep herself from laughing at him. “Uhm . . . it uhm . . . it_ implies_ that—that—ahem, sorry—I uh . . . uhm . . . said—said it . . . first,” his voice squeaked again, and she nearly lost it.

“That’s because you did, love.”

He paled and shakily stood. “You _heard_? How many times have you heard? Why is _now_ the first time that you’ve said something?” he continued to babble semi-incoherently as he started to pace. He said the same thing over and over as he used his insanely vast vocabulary, and even though she didn’t know the meaning of quite a large number of the words—mainly the ones in different languages—she got the gist.

Suffice it to say, he was freaking out that she had heard him.

Eventually—probably longer than she should have, to be honest—she took pity on him and stepped into his path. “I heard just as I woke up. It was the first time that I heard you say it, and I wanted to go back to sleep instantly, but they had to run a stupid amount of tests.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her close. He pressed his lips against hers in a deep kiss that soon had fire in her soul, and her toes curling into the plush carpet. His tongue deftly slid into her mouth, and when she pulled away for air, he trailed feather-light kisses to the left side of her neck and up to her ear where he proceeded to chant _I love you_ between the firm kisses he pressed against her skin.

“I love you, so much, Eden.”

She leaned into his embrace, and peppered her own kisses along his jaw. “I love you, too.”

His grip tightened again, and before he could start to devour her mouth once more, she started to trail her own kisses along the underside of his jaw before she found a spot on his neck just below the corner of his jaw that made him gasp and tighten his hold on her. She smiled and quickly pushed him onto the couch and straddled his lap before she started on her sudden idea.

She pressed light kisses against the skin before they quickly turned to open-mouthed ones, and soon she nipped, licked, sucked, and kissed his neck until a deep moan left his lips when he realized exactly what it was that she was doing. His grip got painful, and she curled her fingers into his hair and tilted his head back further.

“**Merlin, _Eden_, don’t stop**,” he moaned. His fingers slipped beneath the top of her hospital pajamas and stroked the skin of her lower back. She hesitated only slightly before she opened her mouth wide and bit down hard. He groaned and tightened his hold on her while he simultaneously spread his hands, so he touched more of her skin.

She swiped her tongue against his slightly salty skin and began to suck. He muttered a prayer to the Olde gods when she tightened her hold in his hair and forced him to bare more of his neck towards her. “**Eden, I love you**,” he moaned.

She pulled away long enough to whisper, “**I love you, too**” before she went back to his neck.

She wasn’t sure how long she spent on her masterpiece—because that was truly the only way to describe the way Tom was because of it—but when she was done, he had a nice, dark hickey, and he was a complete puddle of goop.

As she stared at him, so relaxed and flushed from the creation of the hickey, she finally understood why he gave her so many. “You know . . . ” she started slyly as she ran a finger along the tender skin and earned a soft groan for her efforts, “I’m tempted to spell this so you can’t hide it.”

A wicked smirk crossed his lips as he finally opened his eyes. The pupils were blown wide, and the blue depths were dark with lust. “Trust me, my love, _everyone_ is going to see it.” He pulled her close when he tugged on the collar of her shirt and pressed a few gentle kisses on her lips. “You said they had to do tests?” he asked a few minutes later.

She nodded her head and moved to sit next to him. It turned out he wasn’t a fan of that idea. He picked her back up and placed her on his lap and wrapped himself around her in a Super Tom Bear Hug. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’m leaving the hospital wing in the morning. Madam P was shocked with how quickly I healed, especially since she didn’t use any Dark type healing spells, and can only just barely cast Neutral healing spells.”

“That’s the power of _Medela Aer_, my love,” he teased softly. “Is there any chance that you’ll go back into the Coma?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I even asked about that, and Madam P _finally_ explained the difference between a coma and a Magical Coma.”

“What is it?”

She had had over twelve hours to accept the facts as they were.

Now it was _Tom’s_ turn to have a life crisis.

“You know those cases you found, about the people who never woke up?”

His eyes widened. “_Please_ don’t tell me they’re the same.”

“They are.”

“How the _hell_ did you wake up then?” he demanded as his grip tightened. She took a deep breath and buried her face into his neck. “Eden?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed at the small, raised scar on her wrist.

It was Confession Time.

Dammit.

“There was an unknown potion Attached to my Core upon waking. It’s why I was under surveillance for so long. Tom . . . . Ow! Tom! Stop, you’re hurting me!”

His grip loosened just barely. “Eden. Is there something you need to tell me?”

Most likely.

“About what?”

“You got the _exact_ times down for whenever they’d give you potions. Did you get another injection at an abnormal time?” Before she could answer, he continued speaking. “If you did, it must have been while I was asleep.” That was truly the only time it could have been—and was—as he’d warn her when they were training—so she didn’t get blown to pieces—once she informed him of the times as well.

She pushed her way out of Tom’s arms and grabbed the diary as she started to pace around the room. “You _were_ asleep. It was . . . really painful . . . and . . . I fell asleep after I received it.” The diary warmed slightly in her hands.

“Like, you left, fell asleep?” She could tell that even as he asked it, he knew it wasn’t that kind of sleep.

“No. I stayed. I woke up just before you did that day. I almost woke you up while I was being injected, but . . .” she trailed off, “I passed out before I could.”

“What was this potion?” He stood and wrapped his arms around her to keep her from accidently burning a hole in the nice carpet with her rapid steps.

“It forced me out of the Magical Coma.”

“So . . . one of the healers waited two months before they gave you a potion that would force you to wake up, and didn’t tell anyone about it?”

“No.”

“What do you—”

“Someone decided to illegally test a potion on me. At least, that’s what the healers think. They know it was illegally made and tested, they just don’t know if I was the first test subject or not.”

His magic exploded around the room with such an intensity she forgot how to breathe for a moment. “That’s it. I don’t care what you say, I’m finding a way to come to your time, and I’m going to track down the son of a bitch who put your name in the Goblet, and the _dead bastard_ who tested an unknown potion on you.”

He stepped away from her and went on a rampage, and because she knew he would be quite a while, grabbed a self-inking quill and sat down on the rug in the middle of the room. She knew she could sit anywhere, and it would be safe . . . but still . . . .

The rug had gotten her through a lot of his rampages this year.

_Hey, Tom._

She didn’t have to wait for the reply, because the second she lifted the quill, words were appearing on the page below her own, before they too, faded.

_Eden. How are you, my little one?_

_Weathering another storm by yours truly._

If diary’s—Horcruxes—could snort, she was sure that it would have—perhaps that _was_ what it did, if the jump in her hands was anything to go by.

_What did you do this time, little one?_

She snorted softly. _I’m insulted! Why do you always think it was something that I did?_

_Dear, it was always something you did. I doubt much has changed since I created the diary. _

She fondly rolled her eyes and looked up at Tom to see that he was currently in the process of decimating his desk. It was quite adorable as he glared at it with his arms crossed over his chest, his weight placed on his left leg, while his right foot tapped a frantic rhythm. She looked back to the diary as he moved onto the couch.

_Well, believe it or not, love, it wasn’t me this time. It was someone in my time._

The diary took some time in responding as it steadily heated. _Did you just call me love?_

She snorted once more. _Perhaps. I’m surprised that you’re not wondering what someone did in my time to earn the complete and total decimation of the Head Dorms for the fourth time in six months._

The diary heated even more. _Why worry when I can’t do anything?_

_Tom love, you’re getting warm. You are absolutely pissed. Stop lying before you set yourself on fire again._

_Fine. I’m pissed. I can’t do anything about it though. Now, you called me love again. Why did you do that?_

She laughed loudly and Tom snapped out of his rampage. “Eden?

“When was the last time that you updated this thing?” She knew he still used it to make plans for the future every couple of weeks, because it was a different point of view, but she suddenly doubted that he actually had the time to do a complete update since November.

He sat down next to her and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Before the Tournament, why?” The room started to slowly repair itself as he began to calm down.

“I may have just slipped and called him love.”

Tom laughed and pressed another kiss to the side of her head. “Well, go on, _love_.”

“Why can’t you do it?” she hissed softly.

_Eden? Is everything alright?_

“You’re the one who slipped up.”

“_You’re_ the one who should tell _yourself_ that _you’re_ in a _relationship_!”

She yelped when the diary heated up to a painful degree and tossed it to the floor in front of her.

_EDEN!_

She nudged a laughing Tom with her shoulder as she retrieved the diary. _Yes?_

_Why. Did. You. Call. Me. Love. Twice!?_

Tom leaned over her shoulder. “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

She sent a silent and wandless shocking hex at him, and earned another kiss to the side of her head for her efforts of bodily harm.

_We’re dating._

She yelped once more and tossed the book onto Tom’s lap when it heated up to painful levels again. He glanced at the words written and fell over laughing.

_I need to talk to myself. Immediately._

_Why?_

Was it bad that she only felt amusement and vindication at those words?

_I need to tell him that drugging you is a Big No-No and to be more careful with his own food and drink._

She snorted and bit her lips. _Alright. He’s currently dying of laughter though, so, I’ll try and get him for you. Good luck._

_You do that, little one. And thank you._

She shook her head fondly as the words faded and kicked Tom’s thigh. She held out the diary. “Here. It’s for you.”

He chuckled some more before he sat up and took the quill from her. She stood and moved over to his bookshelves and grabbed a book on the first Tournament and settled in to read.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

“Eden.”

She bit her lip at the murderous tone. “Yes, lovely?”

“Have you been talking to the diary?” A huff of laughter left through her nose.

“Of course I have. It’s probably lonely in there, and boring to only talk about plans of World Domination.”

“What have you been talking about?”

“Oh, you know . . . _stuff_.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“_Things_.”

Tom sighed when he realized that she was just going to avoid his questions unless he asked her directly what he wanted to know. Really, he thought she had gotten better, but he was wrong—how rare _that_ was. “Did you teach him that joke?”

She snorted, and he _knew_.

He _knew_ either he was going to kill _himself_, or he was going to kill _her_ by the time he finished updating the horcrux.

“Which one?”

Yes, death was imminent.

_Whose _death it would be, exactly, was debatable.

“The bear one.”

She tilted her head to the side in faux innocence. “You’ll have to be more specific, love.”

He sent a prayer to the Olde gods and spoke. “What do you call a bear with no teeth?”

That grin should be _illegal_. Unless he could devour it until the end of time. It did things to him.

And the way her eyes flashed . . . . He nearly died with the feelings that settled deep within him as he imagined taking—

“A gummy bear.”

He looked to the heavens for strength, because _damn_ if the way she said that didn’t do things to him—she was _killing_ him, and there was no way in _Hell_ that she didn’t realize this. He turned back to the diary that seemed to mock him as it sat innocently on his desk.

He flinched when arms wrapped low around his waist and he desperately suppressed the urge to pin her to the closest horizontal surface and—

“Why?” he asked with a slightly choked throat and a deep, husky voice.

“Because I could.” He turned in her arms and narrowed his eyes at her. She started to fidget, and he lifted an eyebrow and tilted his lips _just so_, and she caved. “Fine. I did it because of the Blushing Game.”

Oh _Merlin_ help him.

“What do you mean?”

That delectable grin pulled on her lips and he _throbbed_—

“You’ll just have to figure it out yourself.”

He looked between the love of his life—because surely no one else would be able to do to him that which she could—and his small soul shard, before he bid adieu to the shard and sat down on the armchair and pulled his Eden into his arms. He resisted the urge to kiss her, because he knew that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. “Were there anymore clues for the Third Task?”

Yes, think about anything other than Eden sitting on his lap dangerously close—

She adjusted herself on his lap so she sat curled mostly on his left thigh and didn’t push for anything more than his arms wrapped around her. It was obvious that she was now aware of his . . . _struggles_.

“Nope. I think it’s going to be like the First Task where we have to figure it out on our own.” He inclined his head and she yawned. “No!” she wailed softly as she nuzzled his neck.

Don’t think about it.

“I don’t wanna go!”

Don’t think about it.

He sighed and despite his better judgement, pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, and he trembled as he held himself back.

Don’t think about it.

“I love you.”

She pressed another, slightly deeper, kiss to his lips—don’t think about it—and smiled against them before she pulled away just barely. “I love you, too.”

_Think about it!_

She left before he could do anything that she would regret later.

(he could never regret anything that he wanted to do with/to her)

* * *

_Tuesday, February 28, 1995_

_ Location Undisclosed_

She seems to be happier.

Could he ever destroy her fragile happiness by telling her _exactly_ what he’s done? Would it even matter to her that it was done for her?

He knocked back his fifth glass of fire-whiskey, and went to bed with the picture of the two of them at King’s Cross clutched tightly in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it :) Let me know what you think. 
> 
> If you want to know what Tom sees in the Mirror of Erised, read Memory #3 in In My Memories.
> 
> See you all next week :)


	24. 23 Lockdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, on FF I bold all of the dates/locations. Do you want me to start doing that here, or just not worry about it? I do it over there because I can't format it the way that I can here.

_Wednesday, March 1, 1995_

_ Dungeons, Ritual Room_

Eden sat in the center of the Ritual Circle, and waited.

The room was smaller than what she had thought it would be. It was fifteen feet by seventeen feet, and had ten-foot-tall ceilings. On one wall, there were various Ritual supplies, like Crystals, rock salt, Chalices, Candles, and so many more _things _that she didn’t know the name of or what they could possibly be used for.

The rest of the walls were bare, save the door, and it was also sparsely decorated. Four wooden chairs, a small, plain fireplace, a rug, and a Ritual Circle that was painstakingly carved into the dead center of the room.

The door opened, and a sleepy Draco stepped in. “You’re crazy, I hope you know,” he stated through a yawn. “Who even gets up this early?”

She smiled. “I do. Did you bring the potion?”

He flopped onto one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. He rummaged around in his robes for a moment before he threw something at her. She deftly caught it with nimble fingers. She examined the ornate, crystal vial before she unstopped it and sniffed. “Thank you.”

He nodded and yawned once more. “You know,” he mumbled, “Uncle Severus is going to kill you if he figures out you’ve done this.”

She scoffed. “He was the one to tell me about Locking one’s Core. I didn’t even know it was possible until he told me about it.”

“Really? How long ago?”

“A couple weeks before the Task. After some deliberation, I decided to wait until after to Lock a chunk of it away. Why do you suddenly look like everything makes sense now?”

“Because he’s been doing research. I’ve seen the books on his desk, and when I asked him about it, he said it was too dangerous to do.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I decided to wait until after the Task, in part because I didn’t know if I’d be healthy in time, and partially because I wanted to see if time would be all that was needed. After the Forced Expansion, time is no longer an option if I want to keep people I care about safe.”

He nodded.

She nodded. She grabbed the Ritual Dagger and poked the tip of her pointer finger, and she was about to let the blood drop into one of the gouges of the carved lines, when a shield formed under the drop to stop it. “Wait!”

“What?” she whined.

“Are you _sure_ you want to do this?”

She sighed. “Draco, I’ve sent thirteen more innocent people to the hospital wing since the Task. I _have_ to do it. It _needs_ to happen. Why are you suddenly questioning me?”

“Well, it’s just . . . .”

“Spit it out.”

“Fine. Right now, your magic is protecting you, as evidence of the seven people who _deserved_ to be sent to the hospital wing, that you _have_ sent to the hospital wing. If they corner you again, I’m afraid that with your lessened Core, you won’t be protected.”

“I can defend myself.”

He scoffed. “You haven’t been able to yet.” It stung, but it was the truth. “What makes you think that having less power will help you?”

“Guilt.”

“Explain.”

She sighed. “I’m tired of sending people I care about to the hospital wing. My plan was to Reduce my Core size to about what I had before the First Task. If it will make you feel better, I’ll do it so I have just a little bit more than what I planned.”

“Half.”

“What?”

“You will go down to what you had before the First Task, and then you will add half of that. That’s the only way that I’m going to let you do this.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If I hurt someone—”

“We’ll have Uncle Sev work with you on Control, but for now, we need to Lock your Core. Pansy, Ambrosia, and I have your excuses for the next few days as to why you won’t be attending classes.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. Draco dropped the shield that held a now small puddle of her blood, and the blood fell into the deep groves and the Circle started to glow.

She unstopped the potion and swallowed the sickly-sweet liquid in one go. She gagged for a moment before she unBound her Core, her magic lazy and drugged due to the Magic Relaxation potion she just took.

Magical Tears started to drip down her face.

The Magic Relaxation potion was a fairly safe potion. It was given to those who had extreme anxiety attacks, and given to them when they were in the middle of one. Their magic would relax, and they’d be able to calm fairly quickly because they wouldn’t have their magic ramping everything up and up and up until it grew to needing to stun them in order to calm them.

Once the room was covered in a thick haze due to her magic being completely unBound, she took a deep breath and pictured a small sphere about the size of her fist. She imagined that it was made of unbreakable glass, and that it was surrounded in chains.

She pictured the center of her Core, and she mentally traveled to it, until she was next to it. It throbbed like a heartbeat, but it danced like a pianist’s fingers as it waited for her next command, or waited for her to be in need of it.

Her magic reached out and nudged her, and her hair floated around her body as Magical Tears started to drip onto her hands. She smiled, and nudged it back, and she pictured the small sphere was right next to her Core, right next to the achingly bright, and brilliant willo-the-wisp-mixed-with-dandelion-fuzz mass that was her entire Life.

The sphere slowly came into existence, and she held out her damp hands, and felt a weight that was both there and not. Her magic throbbed, as if it knew what she was about to do, and started to grow wild. She gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut even more, and started to force it into the small, pin head opening on the top of the sphere.

Sweat beaded on her brow and upper lip. It eventually dripped down her face, and within minutes, her clothes were stuck to her skin as she sweat, and sweat, and sweat. Soon, she was no longer able to tell if she was wet due to the Magical Tears, or the sweat that dripped down her skin. She heard Draco’s hesitant questions, but ignored him in favor for shoving her straining magic into the equally strained sphere.

Her stomach growled.

Her head ached.

Her bladder strained.

Her heart hurt.

Her ears rang.

But still she shoved.

She continued to Lock and Lock and _Lock_ until she was left with just a bit more than what she and Draco had agreed on.

It would be enough.

* * *

_Thursday, March 2, 1995_

_ Slytherin Girls Four Year Dorm—2_

Eden’s eyes flickered open.

Her ears still rang with the vicious, nearly 8-hour long lecture Tom had just graced her with on the dangers of Locking so much of her Core at once—she hadn’t paid much attention, if she were honest (she was too tired to do so).

“She’s awake!”

She was suddenly smothered in beautifully hideous touch and weight, until it was all gone, and all that was left was Draco’s hands on her damp skin. “How are you feeling?”

“Weak,” she answered after a moment of thought. “How long?”

“Almost 24 hours.”

She groaned softly.

“What did you do?” Daphne demanded.

“I Locked my Core in such a way that I can unLock it in time of need, or it can unLock itself when I’m in extreme danger. It took more out of me than I thought it would.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ambrosia hissed before she climbed on the bed next to her and started to wipe at her face.

Eden snorted softly. “I know.” Her eyes flickered open, and saw the once white rag was stained black.

She would Adjust to it. Eventually.

Hopefully.

She closed her eyes once more, and slept.

* * *

_Wednesday, March 8, 1995_

_ Hogwarts—Exact Location Unknown_

Everything was blurry.

The only thing she knew was pain.

She heard the distant shouting of spells, and saw the obscure flashes of light, and smelt the sour, and disgusting, musky scent of Dark Magic being used—corrupted violated infringed _abused_—by someone with a Light type Core.

Faint, panicked shouts reached her ears, and no new pain was added onto the perverted agony currently caressing her shattered skin and bones. She rolled onto her back and grimaced when she felt warm liquid beneath her—she prayed to the Olde gods that she hadn’t wet herself.

She tilted her head to the side and underneath the sweet, ozone-y scent of Dark Magic being used—admired exalted cherished _loved_—by a Dark type Core, smelt the acidic iron of blood—she wasn’t sure if that was better than wetting herself or not.

She felt for her magic, and wondered, not for the first time, what spells they had cast on her. Her sphere was shattered, and her magic was dim.

“Come on, lass, stay with me.”

Her eyes flickered open, and she frowned slightly at the sight that greeted her. “Cra’y Fa’ . . . wha’r . . . you doin’ her’?”

“Saving both our hides. Keep your eyes open, lass.”

He picked her up and she cried out before she was rocked into unconsciousness by hurried and uneven footsteps that carried her away in the darkness of late afternoon.

* * *

_Thursday, March 9, 1995_

_ Riddle Manor_

Barty Crouch Jr. stepped lightly into the room, and closed the worn door softly behind him.

He quickly moved to kneel in front of his Master and only spared a quick glance at the man in the corner who stood behind a bubbling cauldron as he worked on a potion for the resurrection of their Lord. “My Lord,” he said before he kissed a corner of the blanket that had warming charms on it to keep his Lord comfortable.

“Barty, my friend. You have returned, my most faithful of servants.” He preened under the weary praise, and sneered at the man in the corner. “Now, now, my friend, let’s have none of that. He is aiding us as well. Now tell me, how is our _darling_ Noah doing?”

He bowed his head and tried not to think about it. “She is doing much better than anticipated, my Lord. She has successfully made it through the Second Task, and the injuries that she has received from it are completely healed.” He spared the man in the corner another glance, because surely _he_ of all people would have told their Lord this already. “Although, she seems to be resisting my attempts to aid her as usual.”

His Lord nodded, and then spasmed, and before he could even _think_ about asking, he recast the warming charms on the blanket and rewrapped him. “Thank you, my friend. Her schoolmates, have they yet settled down with their antagonism?” He blanched as he remembered what he had seen that afternoon. _Don’t think about it_. “Barty?” his Master prompted at his reaction.

“No, my Lord . . . they have not, at least, the Gryffindor’s haven’t. Everyone else has, especially the younger years. As we speak, she is currently in the hospital wing in critical condition.”

Fiery and blistering magic—weak though it may be—curled out from his Master and wrapped around his neck, and _squeezed_. “Barty, I recall telling you to protect her.”

“I did, Master! I swear it! I saved her!”

“How long has she been in the hospital wing?”

“I took her there mere hours ago, my Lord!”

“And are they healing her?”

Neither noticed the tenseness to the man’s shoulders who stood in the corner of the bubbling and spitting cauldron. “Yes, yes!” he gasped, “but, she seems to be almost immune to the potions and spells being used on her!”

The beautiful magic finally curled back around his Master, and he took deep, gasping breaths. “Interesting. How very interesting.”

“What is, my Lord?”

He waved a frail hand as he turned his face away. “That is of no matter to you. I have called you here because I have a task for you.”

“Anything, my Lord.”

His Lord’s beautiful magic filled the room once more, and an iron key floated in front of his face. He gingerly accepted it, and his Master spoke. “I need you to go to the Vault of one Tom Marvolo Riddle and retrieve an item from it.”

“Of course, my Lord . . . . Might I . . . might I be allowed to ask what it is for, my Lord?”

His Lord chuckled softly, and his magic reached out and brushed through his hair, like a parent fondly running their fingers through their child’s hair. “It is something vital for my resurrection.”

He bowed his head in thankfulness. “I thank you, my Lord.” He stood and walked to the door, and paused when he realized something. He closed the door that he had slightly opened and turned around. “My Lord, what is it that I am acquiring, exactly?”

The man in the corner snorted as his Master laughed again. “A locket made of rhodium, Barty.”

“I will go now, my Lord.” He left with a deep bow, and paused slightly outside of the door.

“The locket, what does it contain?” He bristled at the lack of respect shown and just barely prevented himself from running in and defending his Master’s honor.

“Something that will make me whole again.”

He would get that locket, as soon as he could. Even if he had to break into the bank to do it.

* * *

_Friday, March 9, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

Tom frowned when she came back just as injured as before.

“Why don’t they hire a Neutral Core type healer?” he demanded as he carefully helped her to his bed. It was just after dinner and she had been in and out since the middle of the night the previous day.

His love shrugged and winced before he carefully tucked her in underneath the spelled covers. She was still extraordinarily weak from Locking away a majority of her Core, and he _seethed_ at how weak she was from doing something so foolish.

She should have _waited_.

Waited for him.

Built _up_ to the amount she Locked away.

The little hellion, despite his telling her _no_, reLocked the same amount away _again_ while she had been awake.

The little brat.

He didn’t know who he was more mad at: her for Locking her Core, or whoever supplied the necessary Magic Relaxation potion.

“I don’t know. Madam P is good, despite the lack of ability to heal Dark type Cores. Snakey-Snape helps, but, he Drains himself too fast. Not to mention he’s not there today. He had to run an errand or something like that.”

He pushed his anger to the side. He would deal with her when she was better. He could wait. He was patient. “He’s not used to having to heal you, love.” He laid down on the bed next to her on top of the softened covers and draped an arm carefully around her waist. “May I heal you yet?”

“Too many injuries,” she insisted as she shook her head.

He closed his eyes. “Love, it hurts to see you like this, _especially_ when I know that I can help you.”

She sighed, and he knew he won. “Fine. But you have to work up to _Medela Aer_, alright?”

He kissed her softly. “Alright.”

He hated whenever she made him do that, but, when he considered what happened the last time he healed an extreme amount of injuries with _Medela Aer_, he understood where her logic came from, as much as he wished he didn’t. He had tried to convince her that his Core had had five more Natural Expansions since then, and even an Aged Expansion since, but she was resolute in not letting him heal her instantly.

She was his stubborn little witch, and he didn’t think she’d ever change—not that he wanted her to.

He summoned his wand and started with the contusions on her ribs, lungs, chest, sternum, clavicle, and shoulders. Once her upper body was healed to the point that the spells would get them, he moved down her body and healed the large fractures that the shattered bones had been healed to, and all of the bone bruises that he could.

After 30 minutes of constant healing spells, she yawned.

“If I’m asleep when you’re back, wake me up.” She nodded her head and he moved up her body and pressed another soft kiss to her lips.

She faded away with a sigh, and he returned to his schoolwork.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

He was about to leave on his rounds when she came back. He checked his watch and noted that she had been gone for nearly four hours. She looked better than she had before she left, and even had the smallest of smiles on her breathtaking face.

“Is Snakey-Snape there?” Eden bit her lips to keep from laughing and ultimately failed.

“Yeah. It’s why they woke me up. He brought some Dark healing potions and was going to perform _Medela Aer_ before I stopped him.”

“Why did you stop him?” She decided it was vital for her continued health—as sketchy as it may be at the moment—to ignore the blatant frustration in his voice.

“Well, two reasons. The first is that the last time he did it, he was out for three days due to the Magical Strain that he’d never experienced before. The second is that _you_ would have _bitched _about it for _weeks_ if I allowed someone else to try and heal me with it.”

He pouted for a moment as he finished pinning his Head Boy badge onto his robes. “You’re right. I would have. Although, I would have used a different word for it.”

She smiled and he stepped towards her and pressed a soft kiss to her lips as he held her hips loosely. “About to do rounds?” she asked before she ran her fingers through his hair.

His grip on her tightened as he sighed and kissed her again. “Yes, unfortunately. When I get back, I’ll heal you, alright?”

She huffed softly before she assented because she knew that he’d do it with or without her consent. “Fine. I love you.”

A feral grin stretched his face before he kissed her once more. “I love you, too.”

He stepped out of the door, and she carefully settled on the couch with a book on Solar Magic and began to read.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

She opened her eyes in the darkness of the room and smiled softly when she saw Tom sprawled on the bed, asleep, and still dressed in his school robes, minus his shoes and badge. She waved her wand and saw it was just before midnight. She delicately limped over to the bed and carefully climbed on top and curled up next to him.

She pressed her head under his chin and draped an arm around his side. He took a deep breath and she felt him press his lips against the top of her head “You’re back,” he murmured softly. His breath brushed against her forehead and she smiled at him.

“No, you’re dreaming.”

He groaned softly before he started chanting, and soon she was a semi-solid mass of liquid as her aches and pains finally receded completely with the cleansing fire of his blood. He pressed another kiss to her head and wrapped his arms tightly around her, so his arms supported her head and held her close.

“Sleep, Tom,” she murmured softly. She tried to ignore the soft panting she heard from him or the trembling of his hands that signified he was more than halfway Drained. Apparently despite all of the healing from both sides, she was still too injured for him to safely cast it.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and he sighed softly before he fell asleep.

She summoned the large tome on Solar Magic that she had been reading earlier, and continued to do so until she too fell asleep.

She hadn’t noticed that her own Strain from Locking her Core was gone.

* * *

_Friday, March 10, 1995_

_ Location Undisclosed_

“Tell me about your daughter.”

He flinched and just barely managed to keep from pouring in too much of the basilisk heart-blood when his Master spoke. He stared at him in shock for a moment over the fumes that bubbled out of the cauldron in front of him. He put the enhanced crystal vial down softly on the table next to the large object and cleared his throat.

“Pardon?”

“Your daughter. The reason you’ve practically sold your soul to me for. Tell me about her.”

He couldn’t bring himself to be upset with his Master as a fond smile stretched his lips as thoughts of his daughter flickered through his mind. “She’s . . . Merlin, there are so many things about her. She’s kind, funny, has a wit that could break bones if it were tangible. She’s forgiving to most of those who have wronged her, and is willing to give them second chances.

“She’s still young enough to automatically look for the good in people, or perhaps . . . . Perhaps she’s foolish enough to do that, but I don’t believe that she has a foolish bone in her body . . . .” he trailed off as thoughts of his little girl filled his mind.

His Master shifted slightly. “What else?”

“She’s powerful. _Mordred_, she’s powerful. She’s easily the most powerful witch that I’ve ever met.” He shook his head in awe. “She’s only fourteen, but she’s already more powerful than any of the other students at Hogwarts, even though she hides it well. I dare say, that if she weren’t to hold back, she’d be stronger than most in the Ministry.”

“Well, in the Ministry’s defense, they’re all weak and spineless fools.”

He snorted at the accurate assessment of their governing body, and as he brewed, he willingly shared stories about her. Shared his frustrations with those in her life who try and manipulate her. Those who constantly hurt her, and how he’s forced to watch it happen, because he couldn’t do much about it with his hands tied behind his back with the close eyes of all of those around him.

He told his Master the truth about their relationship, and the hardships that came with it.

When he left that evening, he felt closer to his Master than he ever had before. Despite the darkness that pressed in around him from all sides, he finally began to see a faint light at the distant and murky end of the tunnel.

He stared at the stars and murmured to himself, “It’s all for her.”

It was all for his little Eden.

* * *

_Saturday, March 10, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“How are you feeling love?”

Eden wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled close to him. “I’m okay. A little tired, but, that’s normal.” She pressed a kiss to his cloth covered chest and breathed in his minty scent that had a slight tinge of smoke and ozone to it—she absolutely adored it. “Merlin, I can’t wait until I leave that stupid place. I feel like I sleep more in the Hospital Wing than I do in my _own_ bed,” she groaned.

He chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head and breathed in deeply. “I know. I want you out of there just as much as you do, love. Trust me. But we should look on the bright side.”

She pulled her head back and glared at him. “_What_ bright side?”

He cupped the back of her head, pulled her close once more, and dropped another kiss to the top of her head. “The bright side is, love, is that we get to spend more time together.”

She smiled softly, and nodded against his chest before she curled into him again. He laughed softly before he picked her up. She proceeded to channel her inner bonobo monkey as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and propped her head on his shoulder. She tilted her head until the crown of it was pressed under his chin.

“You’re right. As usual.”

“I can’t believe you ever doubted me, love.”

“Never doubt. Just testing you.”

He pinched her back, and she responded in the Very Mature way, and pulled his hair. After an impromptu Mild Torture Tactics War, she cuddled back into his arms—even though she never left them.

“What do you have planned for me today?”

He frowned against her head. “Are you sure you’re up to training?”

“If I’m up to War, I’m up to training.” When he made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a protest in the back of his throat, she continued, “I’m just a little tired. I think if I do something easy, like the dummies, climbing, or the Spaghetti Course, I think I’ll be fine.”

He kissed the side of her head, and ran his fingers up and down her side as he breathed deeply. “We’ll work with the dummies today.”

She tilted her head up, and he pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, and she tightened her hold on his waist. “Will you be with me?”

He nipped her bottom lip before he soothed it with his tongue. “Always.”

She grinned, and pulled his bottom lip between her teeth. She slowly licked at the sensitive flesh before she released his lip, and pecked his lips twice.

“For eternity?”

“**For eternity**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you guys liked it. There are some things that you guys need to know. 
> 
> 1) In My Dreams is not being abandoned. 
> 
> 2) I’ve joined a writing competition that will officially start on the 11th of this month. 
> 
> 3) I’m traveling on the 12th. 
> 
> All of these things combine to one answer: I may no longer be able to post weekly. In the author’s notes, I will post the next guaranteed post day. For the competition, once it starts, I’ll have a short fic due every 2 weeks, and with how quickly I write, I don’t anticipate it taking me long, but since my stuff will actually be being judged, I’ll be spending more time than I usually would on them, and I’ll actually have beta readers tell me what I need to change and do differently, and brainstorming, and then the eternal struggles of keeping my word count below 3,000 words. 
> 
> I honestly think that that will be the hardest part of the competition. 
> 
> Also, the competition is a fanfic writing comp, and Harry Potter based, and after it is judged, I’ll be uploading them on AO3 if I feel they are completely complete . . . you know what I mean?
> 
> Anyways, I love you all, and I look forward to reading your feedback on this chapter. :) 
> 
> . . . 
> 
> By the way . . . just a warning . . . there will be about the same amount of chapters between the Second and Third Task, as there were between the First and Second. I don’t want to cheat you guys, so, that’s why it’s taking so long to get to the awaited point of Eden and Voldemort finally meeting. 
> 
> Don’t kill me. Please.
> 
> If you want to read about Harry and Draco having a confrontation over Eden, read Memory #4 in In My Memories


	25. 24 Hand-to-Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long authors note at the end. You don't have to read it, but that's where you'll find the next GUARANTEED update date

_Wednesday, March 22, 1995_

_ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

When Eden awoke, it was to hot, moist air, puffing in regular bursts, on her face.

She turned her head away in an attempt to get rid of it, and while that did help some, her efforts were rewarded with a heavy weight that settled on her stomach. She finally opened her eyes, and screamed when she saw the rows—there were only two, but in her mind, there were _six_—of sharp teeth that dripped with clear drool.

She pushed at the large creature as a scream tore out of her throat, and her magic reacted as it tore partially from the strong restraints that she had it Locked away in, and the creature started to float above her bed as her mind flashed back to nightmares she once had long ago.

Memories and dreams of pain, Light—bright evil deadly _painful—_magic, fire, and—help someone sorry _stop_—

“Eden, sweetie, calm down. It’s just me.” The creature was gone, and Sirius was crouched over her huddled form as he held her head in his large, calloused hands. “You’re okay. You’re okay, sweetie.” His gray eyes, while not as potent in the area of calming as Tom’s was, were still comforting. “The Rothound can’t hurt you. It’s not real. Shh.” He pulled her curled form into his chest and started to run his fingers through her unbound hair—why her magic always saw fit to unbind her hair was _beyond_ her.

In the arms of her godfather, she quickly calmed. After a moment of steady breathing in his comforting embrace, she snorted in a self-deprecating manner. “I haven’t dreamt of the Rothound since I was nine,” she commented idly.

Her tone made it clear that she was disappointed in herself for the panic attack.

The Rothound—at one point in time called the Boogey-Hound until she drew a picture of it for Aunt Mariea when she was six—had become very real to her when Sirius had done something similar to her when she was five years old.

He had wanted to prank her and Leif, and while her brother had found it amusing, and quite possibly the most awesome thing that could happen to _anyone_, she had been tortured by nightmares.

When she was younger, she regretted that her fear had altered the experience for her twin, but he _never_ _once_ blamed her—in fact, if she started to blame herself, he’d throw one of their toys at her, and if that didn’t work, would continue to throw them until she stopped, and if that didn’t work, he’d tackle her and _sit_ on her until she stopped.

Now that she was older, and was more than quite aware that the creature was just a figment of her imagination, she sometimes thought that it might have been one of the many Curses her mother had placed on her, as they had started shortly after she had started being abused.

Up until she had started to visit Tom in her dreams, she had had horrific nightmares every night. It was nice to have a reprieve during the school year, as she now only had them when she _didn’t_ visit Tom when she slept.

Sirius laughed softly, and ran a guilty hand through her hair before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured before he pulled her into his lap.

She nuzzled his neck, much like a dog would. “It’s okay. It’s always good to get your heart pumping. But, Siri, what are you _doing_ here?”

He sobered quickly, as he was reminded of the reason for his visit. The two separated, and he looked at her with an intense look in his eyes while she leaned back against the dark oak headboard. “I heard some things at the Ministry yesterday when I was at a Very Boring Session, and while I don’t know if it’s true what I heard, I thought you ought to know.”

She sat up and stared at him as her heart began to pound hopefully in her chest. “What did you hear? Am I finally getting away from James and Lily?”

He frowned. “No, we’re still trying. I don’t know how, but your parents somehow have your custody locked down. It doesn’t seem to matter that the _entire_ upper crust of Pureblood Society is trying to get you away from them. The proof that you were abused as a child doesn’t seem to matter either. The Ministry and most of the Light type families refuse to budge on who your guardians are, and who you can live with.” Despair filled her soul at the realization that she actually _wouldn’t_ be free that summer. “What I heard was something about the Third Task.”

She was grateful that she had many contacts in the Ministry, even if they couldn’t really find out much, it was still nice to hear whatever they _did_ happen to find.

“Do you know what I’ll be doing?” None of her other contacts had been able to figure it out, but then again, none of her other contacts was a Marauder.

He shook his head. “No, all I know is that you’re going to be going up directly against the other competitors and other things that are quite possibly going to be creatures. It was a very muddled conversation, and Lucy and I were talking at the same time, while we were trying to listen, and I wish I was paying more attention, but—anyways, that’s not the point. I’m here because I’m going to train you.”

“Train me?” she asked with a lifted brow a smirk that pulled at her lips. Tom was going to _laugh his face off_ when she told him that her _Light Core type_ godfather wanted to _train_ her.

“Yes.”

_She_ was going to laugh her face off if he continued to offer. “I’m doing just fine, Paddy. I don’t need any more magical help—”

He laughed loudly. “Sweetie, I’m not going to train you in _Magic_. I’m a Light type Core. You’re a Pure Dark Core. There is absolutely _nothing_ that I could teach you that would be helpful to you in that aspect due to how different the two are—”

“They actually aren’t that different,” she cut in.

He flicked her nose, and she bit him. “They’re different enough that I can’t teach you Light Casting concepts that would easily transfer over to Dark Casting. I’m going to teach you how to fight hand-to-hand.”

She lifted a brow, more than slightly skeptical, and still on the verge of laughter. “Like muggles?”

He eagerly nodded. “Exactly like muggles. You see, it’s not normal for a witch or wizard to know how to fight like a muggle, so it’s _completely_ unexpected, and automatically gives you the upper hand in a close-combat fight. If you’re not too fond of hand-to-hand, we could get you a Bo staff, and Mariea can train you in Modern Battle Magic.”

She had always wanted to learn Battle Magic—be it Ancient or Modern—due to her godmother who was a Battle Dueler, and traveled the world Dueling and teaching Battle Magic.

She slightly shook her head. “Okay, but, how do you know how to fight hand-to-hand?”

“My father was absolutely _fanatic _about it. He insisted that Regulus and I knew how to fight that way. He taught us himself. Those lessons were probably the only good things that he taught me. That, and how to treat my wife, but that was just watching him, and mother interact before she went a little—” He whistles and twirled his finger next to his head as he rolled his eyes.

“Wait. Wait just a bloody damn minute. Orion Arcturus Black . . . your _father_ . . . Pureblood supremacy _maniac_ . . . taught you how to _fight_ . . . like a muggle . . . _himself_?”

“Yes, yes, shocking I know,” he said in a haughty tone as he threw the back of his hand over his forehead and pretended to swoon. She giggled softly before she fell back into shock.

Honestly, she felt like _she_ was going to swoon.

“I think the world has just come to an end,” she murmured with wide eyes. She thought of the sixteen-year-old Knight that she knew. What had happened between his sixth year at Hogwarts, and having Sirius . . . for him to teach _hand-to-hand_ combat?

“So, when to you want to do it?”

“Um . . . I get up at five every morning except for Saturdays, so we could do it then. I get up between 8:30 and 9 on Saturdays. We could do some now, in fact.”

Her godfather grinned, and for a moment—one teeny tiny itty-bitty moment—she feared for both her life, _and_ her sanity.

_Room of Requirement_

“Alright, let’s get started!”

Eden had been in the Room of Requirement many times in her years at Hogwarts—both with, and without Tom. This was quite possibly the first time that she had seen it do something that she had never even thought _possible_ before.

The Room, always large, seemed much larger than ever before—and yes, that _was_ including the Room of Hidden Things (but that room was also filled with _junk_—wait . . . did it have _sparkles_?)—and it had many, many, _many_ things that she had never seen before.

The floor was covered in a stiff, thick padding, the walls were covered in floor to ceiling mirrors—holy _Merlin_ those mirrors were _humungous_—and on the far wall in the corner was a rack of six and a half feet long—tall?—staffs that all seemed to have different Magical properties—one was covered in thorns, and she wondered how one would wield it without impaling themselves.

Merlin . . . Padfoot really was serious—haha—about the Modern Battle Magic thing.

“Alright, pup. Are you ready?”

She was in her usual workout clothes, only he had forced a too-large conjured t-shirt over her head, and it currently fell off of her left shoulder in baggy waves. Every few minutes, he would reach out and adjust it, only to have it almost immediately start to fall off of the other shoulder.

She wondered when he would just give up.

She tilted her head to the side and nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Okay, great. The first thing that you need to know is your stance. You _always_ want to make sure that your weight is centered so you can easily go side to side, and back and forth.” She spread her legs and bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times before she nodded her head and fell flat.

As her godfather reached out towards her with his large hands, she briefly wondered if she should remove the sticking charms on her feet. By the time that the thought had processed though, she was already falling backwards. She bent her back, and caught herself in a table-top stretch.

“What the hell was that for?” she demanded from her position—note to self, when training with Padfoot, _remove the sticking charms_.

“You know . . . I was just expecting you to stumble, not actually fall,” he muttered softly under his breath. “Oh well. I was showing you that your stance was wrong.” Hands were on her waist as he quickly helped her stand.

“How was my stance wrong? I was centered, wasn’t I?”

He inclined his head. “You were. But, because your feet were even with each other, you had less control over your balance. What you want and _need_ to do, is to have your left foot slightly forward. Good, now when I push you—” She rocked back slightly, but didn’t fall. “—you’re more likely to stay standing up.”

He pushed her again, and she giggled as she rocked once more. “That tickles.”

He stared at her fondly before a small laugh left his lips. “I guess it does kind of tickle.” He pushed her around from a few more different directions. “Do you see how much difference the right stance can make?”

She started to feel like that wiggle-head figurine he had permanently stuck to Lucius’ desk a couple of years ago; (later, when she’ll say as much, he’ll fondly remind her that it’s called a bobble-head, not a wiggle-head).

She nodded, and just for Funsies, decided to push him.

He didn’t even _sway_. She pouted. “That’s not fair,” she whined.

“I’m bigger than you are, pup. Now, I want to get something into your head before we go any further, alright?” She nodded. “While I know this probably won’t come in handy in a real duel, it will if you ever happen to be in close combat—Magical or not—or in the muggle world.”

She wiped the smile off of her face. “Alright. What is it?”

“If you _ever_ fall on the ground, you’re dead. It’s as simple as that. In a duel, if you’re on the ground, it probably means that you—_specifically_ you—were stunned. In close combat, it means that they got you on the ground and now you’re defenseless—especially in the muggle world if you don’t want to break the Statute. Now, I’m not going to be leaving you defenseless, I’m going to teach you some things with Mariea’s help if you ever _do_ get on the ground, but for today, you’re on the ground: you’re dead.”

She nodded firmly. “Got it. On the ground is equivalent to an AK to the face.”

He snorted and inclined his head. “Get back into position, pup.” She quickly did as commanded. “You always want to keep your front foot towards the person that you’re fighting. Let’s say I move over here, what does your—good. Your entire body turns. If I move over here, good. Good, pup.” He carefully stepped around her in a circle, and she always kept him in sight.

Until he reached out and pushed her while he stepped to the side while she turned towards him.

“Siri! What was that for?” she demanded from where she sat with her feet flat on the ground and her butt aching. She quickly stood and pushed at him, and again, it was like hitting a brick wall.

“You never want to take big steps. If you take big steps, you’re no longer centered. Take small steps, and keep your weight on the balls of your feet. When you’re around school, practice staying on them. You’ll probably be wobbly for a couple of days, but with how fast you learn, I’m sure you’ll get it fairly quickly. Now, let’s try this again, with _small_ steps.”

He made three circles around her, with her constantly facing him, and him occasionally reaching out to push her as she took a step. She never fell fully on the ground again, but she did sway a few times, and eve stumbled once before she placed a balancing charm on her ankle so she could stay upright.

“Good job, pup. Now, I want you to hit me.”

A delicate brow rose as a soft snort of incredulity filled the large room. “Like, _punch_ you?”

He eagerly nodded his head—his long hair was immediately, and impatiently swept away from his face—and fell into some sort of position with a serious look on his face. She balled her hands into small fists, pulled her right hand back, and hit him for all she was worth.

She immediately regretted it.

A loud pop, accompanied by fiery white-hot pain that raced up her hand and into her elbow and then her shoulder, echoed in the room. “What the bloody _hell_ are you made of?” she demanded as she cradled her hand against her chest. “Stone? Metal? _Pure pain_?”

He alternated between laughing his face off every few seconds, and looking at her in concern. She flicked her left hand, and he quickly sobered up after five shocking hexes hit him in the face and chest. “Thank you, pup. I needed that. To answer your questions, I’m made of the exact same stuff that you are. You just punched me wrong,” he began to snicker, and quickly sobered with another hex to the nose, “let me see your hand.”

She extended her loosely clenched hand, and he cast a couple of Gray healing spells, and more fire accompanied a painful snap. The room brought forth a Dark bone-healing potion, and a Dark pain-relief potion, and she took both—unlike Light healing potions, they tasted fairly pleasant (like something between citrus and ozone).

“If you want to constantly break your hand, I suggest you keep punching like that, pup. However, if you _don’t_ want to break your hand punching again, might I suggest punching like this?” She copied his hands, and balled her fists so her thumbs weren’t tucked, and when she went to punch him again, it didn’t hurt as much—the only reason it hurt was because she had just _broken_ it. “Good job, pup,” he praised proudly.

She nodded her head before her left brow furrowed as a thought occurred to her. “So . . . I’m just supposed to punch people and hope for the best?”

He barked out a laugh, and shook his head before he went on to show her how to duck, block, and counter punches. They continued to spar in slow motion—they had slowly sped up, but were still no where near actual full speed—when the clock in the Room chimed eight.

She exchanged a wide-eyed looked with her godfather. “I’m late for class.”

“No, it’s breakfast.”

“I have to shower and get dressed. By the time I finish looking human again, I’m going to be late for class.”

“Well, what are you doing just standing there gaping like a fish? Go!”

She sent a flipping hex at him, and ran.

* * *

_Thursday, March 22, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

“Punch me.”

Tom looked up from his tie, and stared at his Eden in concern. “Pardon?”

Surely, he had heard her wrong. They were _not_ heathens—despite what the Christians liked to say.

“Punch me.”

Alright. He_ didn’t_ mishear her. “Why?”

She grinned, and his heart stuttered harshly in his chest. “Because Padfoot is teaching me self-defense, and I want to practice with you. So, punch me.”

He felt like laughing as he stared at her with his mouth slightly opened. “What if I don’t _want_ to punch you?” His tie was long forgotten as he turned to face her fully.

“Do you love me?”

What—how dare she—

“Of course, I do,” he answered instantly.

“Then punch me.”

He should have seen that coming.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Thirty minutes later, Eden had come to the definitive conclusion that teaching Tom was not nearly as easy, nor as smooth sailing as being _taught_ by Tom.

It was no wonder that the man taught himself.

“Tom!” she whined, “take this seriously!”

She bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading at the delightful expression that crossed his face. He sighed and tugged on the collar of his shirt while he looked up at the ceiling before he looked back at her.

She wondered for a brief moment if she should be worried about the light in his eyes before he spoke and erased all doubts from her mind.

She shouldn’t have been so foolish.

“So, I’m just supposed to slap your hand away, right?” As he spoke, he waved his right hand in front of his face as if he had smelt something bad.

She nodded her head. “Yes.” She pulled her right hand back and surged forward and aimed for his face. Instead of swiping her hand away like he was supposed to, he grabbed it with both of his, and pressed a soft kiss to her bruised knuckles while looking her in the eyes.

She completely ignored the way his magic healed them.

“Tom!” she whined as her face flushed, Sebastian flew, and her heart started to pound rapidly in her chest, “you said you’d help me!”

He smirked, winked at her, and pressed a few more kisses to her knuckles before he yanked on her arm, turned her around, and pinned her back to his chest. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, and the left snaked across her stomach and held her right hip possessively. “I am,” he murmured lowly into her left ear. He took the lobe between his teeth and bit down softly. “Get out of my grasp.” He sucked for a moment, before he dropped his lips to the skin just below her ear, and began to press soft, open-mouthed kisses there.

She weakly struggled in his arms and her eyes rolled into the back of her head, before she forced them forward as her eyelids flickered. The tip of his tongue brushed against her skin, and her knees weakened slightly. She mentally shook her head, and jerked in his grasp. He smirked against the skin of her neck before he licked it again. The arm around her shoulders slowly rose until the crook of his elbow rested against the column of her throat.

Her eyes flickered once more as she lifted her hands and pulled at his arm. He tightened his hold until breathing became _slightly_ difficult. She pulled again, and groaned when that did nothing. He completely misread the sound, and bit down lightly before he returned to sucking.

While she weakly struggled in his grasp, he pulled away from her neck, and pressed a line of kisses against the top of her head before he latched onto the skin beneath the corner of her jaw on her right side. A soft moan involuntarily left her lips, and she turned to complete putty as he bit, licked, sucked, and kissed the skin harshly.

It was _just_ on the edge of too much.

It was _just_ to the point of too painful.

It was _way_ passed the point of too distracting.

“**Tom**,” she moaned softly as fire threatened to turn her into an incoherent husk. “**Let me go**.”

He grinned against her before he shook his head softly, moaned—more like growled—before he bit down hard. A gasp left her lips before it turned into a soft moan when he licked the icy ache, and soothed the pain with fire. He repeated the action multiple more times, and the conflicting sensations, and the fire in her blood continually grew, until it became too much.

He pulled away, and her veins were filled with a painful and burning icy flush.

“_Shit_, Eden. I am _so_ sorry.”

She lifted a hand to her neck, and felt a sticky warmth. She pulled her hand away, and stared at the thick blood on her hand. Without thinking or pausing to consider her actions, she turned around and punched Tom’s face just like Sirius had taught her to. Her fist made contact with his nose, and she covered her mouth as he groaned and covered it.

Amusement and horror filled her with a fiery burn. “I’m so sorry!” she cried. He bent at the waist and laughter started to shake his body. She stepped closer to him, and bent over slightly. “Are you ok—” She stopped speaking when he straightened and hit her own nose with his head.

She fell to the ground and clutched at her broken nose as thick blood oozed out of it, and curled into a fetal position.

Tom laughed and knelt down next to her head. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” she commented after he healed her nose and cleaned her face.

He grinned and lovingly pecked her lips. “Nonsense. I’d much rather have you practice with me, than have you practice with Dragon. Now, how about we start again?”

“No more biting me,” she muttered as she stood. Nibbling was fine. Same with nipping. Both were actually fairly pleasant.

Biting was now a _Big_ No-No.

She stumbled slightly, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as he steadied her. He bent down and licked the still bleeding wound on her neck, and his magic healed it. His tongue drug lightly up to her ear, and he gently bit the lobe, and her breath caught.

He smirked.

“My darling, my love . . . haven’t you noticed?” He sucked on her lobe before he moved to the place where her neck and shoulder met and bit down hard. A soft moan left her lips, and her knees collapsed, and he was forced to support her entire weight. He laughed and held her close and licked the ache before he nipped it a few more times. “Biting’s the best part,” he finished.

He pulled away, and stared into her eyes, and she began to wonder if Draco would kill her if she started to wake him up at five in the morning to practice with her.

Merlin _knew_ it would be _far_ more effective than whatever Tom had in mind.

Her eyes narrowed. “Either let me go so we can practice, or kiss me until I can’t see straight, and then we practice,” she hissed.

“My pleasure,” he growled just before his lips descended onto hers.

* * *

_Monday, March 27, 1995_

_ Room of Requirement_

That was the Last. Damned. Straw.

The heavy door to the Room slammed shut behind her, and before Sirius could do anything, unBound her unLocked magic. “Is everything alright?” he hesitantly asked once more magic was reBound once more and nestled close to the small, chained sphere next to her Core.

“No. You’re going to teach me how to get out of someone’s grip.”

He lifted a brow as a reluctant smiled tugged at his lips. “Training partner deciding to pin you? So soon?” He waggled his brows.

If one decided to give another person a hickey every time they started to practice, and thus make practice ineffective, then yes.

“Yes, he’s pinning me. Teach me how to _destroy_ him.”

Sirius sent a Patronus to Mariea. “Question, how much do you care about his well-being?”

“I love him. I want him to _suffer_.”

Mariea laughed as she stepped into the room from the activated floo in the corner of the room—as far as they were aware, the headmaster wasn’t aware of its existence. “Suffering is always a good thing to have in a relationship.”

After the three finished training, Eden decided that if Tom and Sirius ever met, the world would crumble to their knees, and an end would come to all who opposed them while she and Mariea watched from the sidelines.

She kind of wanted it to happen.

* * *

_Tuesday, March 27, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

When Tom reached out with both hands instead of one, Eden expected the kisses to her knuckles, and him yanking her back against his chest.

What _he_ hadn’t expected, was for her to immediately get out of his grasp before his lips could latch onto her neck. She turned with a grin that stretched her lips wide, and gazed down upon her love as he clutched at his crotch and bleeding nose while he groaned.

“You lied to me!” he snarled. He pushed himself so he sat, and the air thickened with his magic and the beautiful scent of ozone as he healed himself.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You said he hadn’t taught you anything new!” he growled as he stood.

“No, I didn’t. You asked if he had taught me anything that _you_ needed to know.”

“You didn’t think that I needed to know that you could do that?”

She nearly laughed. He was pouting.

She grinned widely at him. “Nope.”

She squealed and jumped to the right as he lunged for her, and kicked her left leg out at him. He caught it before it made contact with him, and held her sock-covered foot in his hands.

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“Because,” she started as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “had I told you that I knew how to get out of you pinning me to your chest, you would have done something that I didn’t know how to get out of.”

He glowered and released her foot. “That’s the _point_, Eden. I don’t want you to ever leave me.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. He immediately wrapped his own around her, and pulled her even closer—it was almost like he was trying to combine their bodies into one. “I’m _never_ going to willingly leave you, Tom. Besides, whenever I _do_ leave you, I _always_ come back.”

He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re right.” She preened. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

She laughed softly, and the clock chimed 8:45—it was spelled to do that. “Of course not. I’d have to check you to see if you were an imposter if you did like it.”

He rolled his eyes fondly and started shrugging on the rest of his uniform. “Into the trunk, you.”

She smiled, tied his tie for him, pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and jumped into the ninth compartment.

* * *

_Tuesday, March 28, 1995_

_ Location Undisclosed_

He glared at Barty as he stepped into the room and prostrated himself in front of the Dark Lord. It made him sick.

Granted, it was more of the man’s _actions_ at the beginning of the school year that made him sick more than his current actions.

He rolled his eyes and continued to brew.

“Hey ——, how’s the potion going?”

He looked up at his name and rose a brow at the man. “_You_ wish to speak with _me_? Willingly?” He glanced to the Dark Lord as a smirk pulled at his lips, and saw that he was amused as well. “My Lord, I think the world has come to an end.”

Barty snorted. “Damn you ——. I was just trying to make nice with you, and see how everything was going.”

He laughed softly. “It’s going to be on time, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The man’s shoulders relaxed. “Don’t worry, Barty, I won’t let all of your hard work go to waste.”

“Our.”

“What?”

“_Our_ hard work. You have just as big of a role in this as I do. It’s _our_ hard work.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, and he nodded his head. “You’re right. I do.”

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

He smiled stiffly. “I’m fine. Just—got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

Barty looked at him with understanding. So, he knew.

Did their Lord know?

No. He was careful. Probably too careful. He hadn’t let his daughter’s name—_any_ of them—slip. She was safe.

He scoffed.

Who was he kidding? She wasn’t safe.

At this point, he didn’t think that knowing that Noah Potter was his daughter would change any of the Dark Lord’s plans.

Barty patted his shoulder, and let him be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, I hope you guys liked it. Feedback, as always, is more than welcome.
> 
> So, this week was abnormally hard for me. It had gotten to the point where on Wednesday I decided that I wasn’t going to post this week. I had decided Sunday that I wanted to get the second draft of In My Dreams done before I leave town tomorrow, and so, I sat down, and I tried so hard to do it. 
> 
> I failed. 
> 
> For the last six months, almost all I have done is write. And write. And write for 12 hours, every day. I hadn’t taken any breaks until about the last month when my family was finally able to get me to take Sunday’s off, and well . . . I don’t know if you know this, but, Writers Burnout is a thing. 
> 
> A horrid, awful thing that I wouldn’t wish on the author’s I hate the most.
> 
> It had been building for the last month, and I kept ignoring it, and ignoring it, and ignoring it, until every time I sat down at my computer, I’d just start to cry. It was really hard to be able to even think about Tom or Eden or any of my other stuff that I have in the works. (for those who asked, I have three soulmate fics in the works—my brain refuses to focus on one, so three are being worked on)
> 
> Comments didn’t make me as happy as they used to, and I wanted to set my computer on fire, and start a bonfire with all of my notebooks that had all of my writing in it, and smash the flash drive that I wear around my neck, because my writing is my life.
> 
> After I sat down with my dad, and he explained some things to me, and the writing habits of two authors who I really look up to, I decided that I’d take a break. But, I also felt extremely bad because if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to post this week, and the next time that I could guarantee a post is February 1st. 
> 
> That would have been a month without posting, and that thought killed me. 
> 
> It wasn’t until yesterday that I started to actually feel human again, and I was able to sit down and edit this chapter. I’m sorry if it’s not good, or up to the usual quality that I usually write. 
> 
> As I said earlier, the next GUARANTEED post is February 1st. I’ll be out of town this Saturday, and I’d rather spend time with family that I don’t get to see often than edit, and then the next week I have my first project for the Competition due. Now, me saying February 1st, doesn’t mean that that’s when you’re getting the update. That’s the LATEST the next update will be. I might update right after I get back in town, which will be the 20th, or I might be able to update the same day that I have stuff due which is the 25th. I don’t know. 
> 
> I don’t do well with stress, and I really want to avoid another hard crash like I had this week. 
> 
> I love you guys, and I don’t want to abandon you or In My Dreams, I just really need to look after my mental health right now. 
> 
> Thank you for your continued support, and I’m so grateful to each and everyone of you who have read this far.


	26. 25 Repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing peoples. I love you all.

_Tuesday, March 28, 1995_

_ Hogwarts Grounds_

“Snakey-Snape!”

The man in question slumped before he turned around with a soft smile that he reserved for use with only Eden or Draco.

“Yes, Eden?”

She stopped next to him, and took a deep breath. Her heart thundered slightly in her chest from the sprint from the great hall to where they now were on the grounds. “I wanted to ask you about a potion that I was reading about the other day. I tried to find out more about it in the library, but couldn’t find anything there, or in the Slytherin common room, so, I decided that I’d find you and ask you about it.”

He smiled fondly at her and gestured for her to follow him. “I have to run an urgent errand, so unfortunately, we’ll have to walk to the gates while we talk.”

“That’s fine.” The two started a semi-fast stroll, and every once in a while, their arms would bump.

“What was the potion that you wanted to ask me about?”

“The Draught of Starlight.”

He paused for a moment and looked at her with a strange look on his face before they continued on. “Where did you read about that?”

“I’ve recently gotten into Solar Magick, and that was mentioned in one of the books I was reading. The main reason that I ask about it, is because in first year, Squirrelly gave me a Stardust necklace that _apparently_ has some protections on it. I don’t really remember though . . . . I was kind of high on pain potions at the time. I wanted to know if they’re the same thing, similar, or two things completely different.” As she spoke, she fingered the necklace with an extremely small vial on the Magically reinforced cord that had a silvery-white powder in it.

He hummed as he inclined his head in understanding. “Stardust, and the Draught of Starlight are not the same thing. And, there’s even two types of Stardust.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, there is a holiday of sorts. It’s called the Day of the Serpent Star. It was discovered by Salazar Slytherin’s fifth great-grandfather, Skylark Slytherin. On the Day of the Serpent Star, you are able to make a special type of Stardust. Do you know how to make it?”

“Yes, but, I’m not entirely sure what its use is.” She had read numerous ways to make it, but hadn’t made it herself, and its use was always . . . glossed over.

“Alright. You see, Stardust on its own doesn’t really do much. It’s a stabilizer for a lot of Solar Magic Rituals, Solar Prayer Ceremonies, and Solar Potions, but, beyond that, it’s just something you can press into a decorative stone paper weight, or allow it to be a pretty decoration in a vial.

“On the Day of the Serpent Star, however, if you make Stardust, it gains protective properties. It’s not a whole lot though. It’ll protect you from minor hexes, curses, and jinxes, but not anything that’s taught above third year.

“There are some speculations that Stardust made then will also prevent you from being poisoned by a snakebite, but again, not much is known about that particular protection because for some strange reason, people aren’t willing to test that theory.”

She smiled and snorted softly. “Alright, I can understand that. What does the Draught of Starlight do?”

“The Draught of Starlight isn’t actually really that useful. Its main use is to create a small nightlight for children who are scared of the dark, and not drain the parents’ magic.”

She hummed under her breath. “That makes sense. Does it have any other uses?”

He opened his mouth to respond as he inclined his head—

“Miss Potter, might we have a moment of your time?”

Eden frowned and turned around to be greeted with the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. “Whatever for?”

Couldn’t they see that she was in the middle of a conversation?

“We just want to ask you some questions.”

They weren’t far from the castle, but they were still alone, just the four of them, and that didn’t make her feel better at all. She looked to Snakey-Snape, and saw him already looking at her. “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” he drawled, “as your Head of House, it would be inappropriate for me to ignore my duty to be with you while you speak with the Headmaster. In fact, it would be inappropriate for _any_ teacher to allow a student to speak one on one with the Headmaster.”

The man in question tensed, and she and Snakey-Snape both put up their Masks that gave absolutely nothing away. She stepped closer to him and tried to ignore the hatred and slimy sensations that started to fill her.

“What did you want to talk to be about, Headmaster?” she slightly sneered, her disapproval of the conversation quite clear.

Minnie cleared her throat. “Well, you see . . . we’ve had some . . . _concerns_ over some things that we have been seeing you do lately.”

Did they know about the sneaking into the Restricted Section, the library, and the Room of Requirement?

“I apologize, Professors, I don’t know what you mean.”

Dumbles took over as he had clearly decided that only asking what they wanted straight forward would work—smart man (unfortunately). “Have you been taking illegal potions to Expand your Core, Noah?”

Her right eye twitched, and she felt control slip just a bit before she got it back—albeit, not a strong as before.

(if she had been paying attention, she would have noticed the crack in the sphere)

“It’s Eden, and no. I haven’t.”

He didn’t believe her. The twinkle in his eyes had dulled, and they were now filled with a glint of suspicion. “How would you explain why you are capable of more advanced spells than your classmates?”

She shrugged delicately. “I’ve been practicing, Headmaster. Your Core is like a muscle, I have discovered. It grows with use. Practicing for this horrid Tournament has required me to practice, _a lot_. It would make sense that my Core is slightly larger than my classmates. But, we also _must_ acknowledge the fact that I _did_ have a fairly large Forced Expansion that happened because of the last Task.”

The two still didn’t believe her. “Noah, my dear—”

Her left eyebrow twitched.

It was their only warning.

Her magic broke out of its tight confines, and snapped in the air around her—the sphere lay shattered next to her Core as the chains steamed. Her hair was torn out of the complex Viking goddess hairstyle she had spelled it into that morning after she had returned from the Restricted Section.

The free strands floated around her head and magic crackled between the strands, and they reached simultaneously for her Core, and the two professors in front of her before they’d rub against her face, and then continue to snap around violently. “_Don’t_. Call. Me. That. Again,” she snarled, her voice altered by the magic that curled around her.

a cut appeared on the Headmaster’s cheek and tears unwillingly pooled in her eyes, and dripped down her face, and her magic grew more violent. Instead of a clear line being left, like expected, a thick, black line marred her skin. She still hadn’t gotten control of the Forced Expansion, which was both extremely dangerous, and unusual—perhaps it was because she had been Locking her Core.

The two unwelcome professors were forced back a few steps, and stared at her in horror as her feet started to lift off of the ground. “We apologize, Miss Potter,” Minnie spoke in a poor attempt to regain control of the situation.

More Tears streaked down her face, and her clothing started to snap in the powerful gales that her magic brought around her. Cuts started to appear on her own skin, and her eyes began to glow. Her outer robes were torn off of her body, and tears began to form in her school shirt and skirt, and blood started to seep from the cuts and stain her clothes, and skin.

Snakey-Snape placed his hand on her shoulder, and almost immediately her magic started to calm. Her feet quickly touched the ground, and her clothing stopped tearing. Her magic still snapped at the unwelcome professors, but no longer did cuts appear on her own skin. She swiped her arm across her damp face, and grimaced when it came back black.

“Eden, you need to breathe. Remember what Poppy said: you’ll have issues controlling your magic now because of the Forced Expansion. You don’t want to hurt someone.”

Oh, she bloody well did want to hurt someone. Mainly the two _bumbling baboons_ in front of her.

She was shocked out of her blood thirsty thoughts when an unknown, yet vaguely familiar—ataractic encouraging supportive _comforting_—Force brushed up against her magic. She tensed when it wrapped completely around her and her magic—it almost felt like she was being hugged from every direction, and she _swore_ she felt fingers run through her hair.

Frightened, she began to wrangle her thick, Raw Magic back into its usual confines, and was shocked—amazed startled awed _pleased_—when the unknown Force aided her in her endeavors. Once her Core was Locked away, she felt fine.

Weird.

The Force released her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a royal purple mist as what felt like fingers ran through her hair, and a kiss was pressed to the top of her head.

_Well done, my child_.

She quickly turned to see what it could be, but it was gone by the time she moved. “Did you see that?” she demanded of Snakey-Snape—she had forgotten that they weren’t alone.

“See what”

The three adults stared at her in confusion as she spun around in a circle, and even began to look behind Snakey-Snape. Her left brow furrowed as she stopped on his right once more. “Nothing. I just thought . . . never mind. I thought I had seen something.” She rubbed at her eyes and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Alright,” she could hear his reluctance. He turned to the two professors while she continued to rub at her forehead. “Did you need something else?”

“No. Severus, perhaps you should write to her parents and see about getting her a Containment Orb until she can control her magic once more,” Minnie suggested before she and Dumbles left.

Once they were alone, they continued on towards the gates. “St. Mungo’s had one of those in my room,” she commented.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” She was silent for a moment. “I didn’t like it.” He laughed softly. “So, I broke it.”

He snorted, and she preened. “That was a very dangerous thing to do, sweetie,” he admonished lightly as he fondly ruffled her hair. “You could have gotten cut.”

She shrugged as she thought back to the moment that it had happened. “It didn’t hurt me. Besides, it had been cracking anyway, so, I just unBound my magic completely, and it happened to break. It wasn’t a fully conscious decision to break the Orb.”

He stopped and stared at her, and she had to turn back to look at him as she had continued walking. Her head tilted to the side, and he spoke. “You _broke_ a _Containment Orb_? By just _unBinding_ your magic?”

“Yup.” What was so hard to believe about that?

“How big was it?”

She thought for a moment. “Um . . . I think it was the size of a quaffle? Maybe a small pumpkin . . . . I’m honestly not too sure. I didn’t pay too much attention to it. I was too busy trying to get caught up.”

Severus’ heart seemed to stop as he stared at Eden, and he finally realized—admitted to himself (he had had his suspicions since November, after all)—that the ‘great’ Albus Dumbledore had indeed made a mistake that Samhain night, all of those years ago.

_Eden_ was the prophecy child.

Suddenly, a lot of things started to make a _lot_ more sense.

“Eden, that’s the largest Orb size that they make. Those are supposed to be _impossible_ to break with Raw Magic.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, the pure embodiment of uncaring teenager. “Evidently they’re not. Can we get back to the Starlight Draught thingy?”

“Eden, this is important that we get your magic back under control. You could hurt someone.”

“So? If I hurt someone who hurt me, what’s the problem? They deserve it. Besides, that’s only the second time that I’ve truly lost control since the Expansion.”

“When was the first time?” He feared that he knew exactly when it was.

“It was when those seventh years ambushed me. I lost control and fought back, but . . . I don’t know. I think they cast some spell on me after I _did_ start to lose Control, because I couldn’t Control it anymore, and it just kind of . . . shrunk, I guess. I’m not entirely too sure what they did, or even how to explain what they did. All that I know is that everything was back to normal when I woke up.”

It was probably a Magic Dampening spell, he thought as rage fueled his heart and mind. He just barely kept his magic from lashing out at the world. “I’m doing everything that I can to get them punished.”

She nodded and toed at the ground as they walked, and looked as if she were about to trip or stumble. “I know. Dumbles is too lenient with his Lions, and is too harsh with our Snakes. I wish we could just get rid of him.” She had muttered the last part so softly, he barely heard her.

He ruffled her hair again. “I want you to try meditating in the Room of Requirement with your magic unBound so you can get used to the size of it. It will give you Control of it again once you know how large it is. It won’t be as quick as it would be with a Containment Orb, but it’s still better than nothing.”

“Why would knowing the size of it help? I’ve never had to do that before.”

“Because it’s something that happens naturally. Just like you’re aware of your arms and legs without needing to look at them, and your lips, and eyes, and nose. It’s logic. Whenever you have a Maturation Expansion, or a Natural Expansion, your Core grows such a small amount, that your mind and body is automatically aware of it. When you turn 17, and you get an Aged Expansion, your Core grows quite a bit more, but, it’s just to the point for most witches and wizards that they don’t need to sit down and unBind their Core to figure out its size.

“Because you had a _large_ Forced Expansion, it makes complete sense that you’d have to figure out how large your Core is now.” He paused and looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Were you ever able to figure out how large your Core was after you woke up from the Coma?”

She shook her head and his heart sunk. It was going to be _much_ harder for her to figure it out than anticipated. “No. I was getting close to figuring it out, but every time I unBound my Core, those I was with . . . well . . . we would all get hurt. So, I just decided that keeping most of it Locked away would be safer for everyone.”

Fear froze his steps once more. “Eden.” Her eyes widened at his tone. “You will stop Locking your Core, _immediately_.”

“Why? You were the one who told me about it.”

And he would regret that fact forever if she didn’t do as he told her to.

“That was before I did more research on it. Do you know what an Obscurial is?” She shook her head. “It’s a witch or wizard who Locked their Cores away, and their magic started to eat them alive. Their magic eventually gets so powerful that it kills them, and brings a whole world of destruction in the process. Typically, they’re formed at a young age, and only in those who are muggle-raised—it _can_ happen to a magically-raised child, _theoretically_, but it hasn’t happened yet.

“Eden, if you continue to Lock away your Core, it will start to eat you alive, and it will destroy you, and everything in its path until Mother Magic takes you Home.”

She looked to the ground, and toed it with her shoe, and something popped in the air as she unLocked her Core. “I Promise not to Lock my Core again, unless it is in a life or death situation.” Before he could do anything, she Sealed her words to Mother Magic and the Olde gods.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Can we talk about Starlight now?” she pouted.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he laughed fondly and tried to force the fear out of his Core. “Yes, little one. We can.”

_Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_

Eden refused to acknowledge the guilt that ate at her as she Bound her Core so tightly, she might as well just Lock it.

She didn’t Lock it away, at least, not in the traditional sense. But, the way she had Bound it, it could still be considered Locked.

She didn’t feel the tightness that came from Breaking a Promise to the Olde gods and Mother Magic, and knew that she had found a solution.

* * *

_Wednesday, March 29, 1995_

_ Location Undisclosed_

“What is bothering you?”

He flinched and just barely kept from adding too much Hellhound saliva—really, _where_ did the man get all of those strange ingredients?—and put the flask down. “I find that you do that far too often, my Lord.”

A soft, gravely chuckle reached his ears. “Yes, well, if you weren’t continually distracted, or focused, or I Eternally _Bored_, we wouldn’t have that problem. Now, come sit and tell me what is bothering you, my friend.”

He sighed, cast a potion-grade stasis charm on the large cauldron, and moved to the chair next to his Master. “It’s my dau—E—Potter,” he finally stammered out—he was quick enough that his Lord didn’t and _couldn’t_ make any dangerous connections.

“Which one?” he sneered.

“E—Noah.”

“Oh? Has something happened to our _darling_ Savior?”

“No . . . not exactly. Some . . . _concerning_ information has reached my ears about her. About her magic specifically.”

His Master’s small, deformed head tilted to the side. “Is it deteriorating under the stresses of the Tournament?”

“No, my Lord. The exact opposite, in fact.”

“Explain.”

“I have heard from a . . . _trusted_ source, that she broke a Containment Orb while she was at St. Mungo’s recovering.”

His Master scoffed. “And how did she do that?”

He hesitated, and when his lord lifted a hairless brow, he spoke. “She unBound her magic, at least, that’s what I was told. While I have no reason to doubt my source, I do not know if that is true or not.”

Acid burned the back of his throat.

The Dark Lord scoffed once more. “They obviously didn’t give her an Orb large enough. It is quite common for an Orb to break if it is overloaded with magic. Let it trouble you no longer my friend. It does not concern you.”

He bowed his head. “Of course, my Lord. I should have thought of that sooner. Thank you, my Lord.”

He went back to brewing, and couldn’t help but worry.

* * *

_Sunday, April 15, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

Tom was still in bed.

_Asleep_.

She waved her hand, and when Eden saw that it was indeed 8 AM—like usual—she frowned.

Was he sick?

Tom was _never_ asleep at 8 AM unless he was sick. She moved to the bed, and climbed onto it, and knelt next to him, and pressed her inner wrist against his forehead, and then against her own.

He didn’t have a fever . . . .

Just as she was about to attempt a diagnostic spell—Healing Magic wasn’t her forte—his arms suddenly wrapped around her, and pulled her down so she was laying half on top of him.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmured/cooed. His voice was deep and gravelly, and Sebastian decided to take a world tour in her stomach.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and he smiled down at her, and she thought she was suddenly going to explode. Her body didn’t know how to handle all of the emotions that he was evoking deep inside of her.

“Are you alright?” she asked in lieu of greeting. She shakily pushed herself up, so she was on her hands and knees.

Nope.

Didn’t help.

Sebastian was somewhere in Canada.

He laughed softly, and fire greeted her in a warm hug. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s Sunday. Sunday is Cuddle Day, remember, love?”

Her face flushed. It had been her idea. “I forgot. But only because you were asleep!” He lifted a tired brow as a sleepy smile tugged at his lips, and again, her blood throbbed. “You’re _never_ asleep past six. I was worried.”

He grinned and pulled her down towards him. After a few minutes of half-hearted wrestling on her part, he had her laid out next to him as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

“I love you, Eden.”

“I love you, too, Tom.”

He grinned and kissed her deeply. When he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, she spoke again. “Hey, Tom?”

“Yes?”

“You’re my soul.”

His mouth was on hers, his tongue in her mouth, and fire in her veins as he tried to meld the two of them together.

“You own my soul, Eden. Every single part of it. It’s yours.”

* * *

_Sunday, April 23, 1995_

_ Dungeons_

Eden scowled at her captors.

Draco sheepishly grinned, and removed the gag from around her lips. “What the _bloody hell_ do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

“You’re not practicing!” Pansy wailed.

“How many more times to I have to tell you guys? _I am practicing_!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Theo snarled.

“Guys, maybe we should let her go,” Ambrosia started hesitantly.

(Eden’s eyes had begun to glow)

“I agree,” Evanius and Septimus added together, their hands held tightly.

Good.

Those three were safe-_ish_.

“No. Not until she can prove that she’s been practicing!”

Eden rolled her eyes, and instead of responding with words, like a _normal_ person, she unBound her magic halfway—that was the current amount that she could handle without getting Magical Tears or Lash-Back (which were similar in this case)—and quickly got out of the poor excuses for restraints that she had been wrapped in, and had all of those who had cornered her in the air—all 20 of them.

Septimus, Evanius, and Ambrosia were held loosely, while everyone else was starting to bruise. She stood and the three gently touched onto the ground. She looked at the other seventeen, and they sighed.

“So . . . maybe you _have_ been practicing,” Antony reluctantly conceded.

* * *

_Saturday, April 28, 1945_

_ Head Dorms_

Eden opened her eyes, and frowned when she heard soft mewling sounds.

Her head tilted to the side, and she was half-convinced that it was just her imagination, but was quickly reassured that it was _not_ just her imagination.

The sound came again, and with it came the accompanying sounds of the rustling of bedsheets. She quietly padded over to the bed, and frowned once more when she saw Tom with his hands clenched tightly in the bedsheets. The comforter had been kicked off of the bed, and he was in his school uniform—he must have laid down for a nap.

Was he sick?

Sweat poured down his face—which was contorted into a deep, pained frown—as soft whimpers left his throat. He shifted once more, and she heard faint whispers in parseltongue that were too soft for her to understand.

She climbed onto the bed, and softly shook him. He immediately shot up and looked around with wide eyes while his Raw Magic wrapped tightly around her shoulders and held her arms to her sides as thin spikes formed and pressed harshly against her throat. A large, half-Dome Shield formed around them, and the entirety of it was opaque above their heads.

_Nothing_ would get through that.

Painfully aware of the sharp spikes that dug into the soft skin of her neck, she carefully reached out a hand and stroked his trembling face. “It was just a dream, Tom,” she murmured softly.

The air was thick with the scent of ozone as he leaned into her touch, and the panic in his eyes cleared. The projectiles faded, but the Shield stayed. He frowned, and his magic caressed the small wounds inflicted before she carefully crawled towards him once more. She shoved his pillow out of her way, and with the help of her magic, maneuvered his limp form into her version of a Super Tom Bear Hug—an Eden Bear Hug, if you will.

His head rested against her chest, and his legs were sprawled out in front of them, while hers were bent on either side of him. She gently rubbed his temples with her middle fingers, while her thumbs and forefingers massaged the back and crown of his head. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked after a few minutes of calm breathing on his part.

He was silent for so long, she thought he had gone back to sleep. She was content to just hold him while he slept. She was content to stare down at him, and bring him whatever comfort she could, and whatever comfort he would accept.

“How much do you know about the muggle war going on right now?”

She was proud of herself for not flinching when his raspy voice cut through the silence.

“I know enough.”

He didn’t need to know that she had obsessively researched it after he had told her about it during her first year. Remus had been confused when she asked him for the books, but he had given them to her anyway. “I lived in London, whenever I wasn’t at school . . . and sometimes . . . I have dreams—_nightmares_ about the bombings that I was there for.”

He continued to explain that that was where his severe fear of death had come from. After he had told her how he had been locked out of the bomb shelter by some of the horrid children—who she now wished she could kill—she decided to ease his worries by doing something she had vowed to never do.

No one should be forced to learn advanced Magic in the face of death. Especially if that Magic currently hovered over their heads nearly an hour after he had woken up from his nightmare.

She took a deep breath.

“World War II officially ends on September 2, 1945.” He tensed in her arms. “It ends after Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore defeats and imprisons Gellert Grindelwald in Nurmengard, early July, 1945. Due to Grindelwald’s imprisonment, the muggles—Hitler in particular—are no longer affected by the insanity brought from his Dark Addiction, and both wars are ended.”

“Does it . . .” He paused and swallowed. “Does the muggle war ever touch our world?”

She shook her head and pressed a kiss to his hair. “No. It’s the Wizarding War that touches the muggles.”

He nodded. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked softly.

“I’d rather risk altering my future, than see you have nightmares,” she instantly, and firmly stated. “I know what it’s like to have crippling nightmares that make you so scared that your magic develops a mind of its own. If I can do something to prevent you from having them, I will.”

He relaxed even more, before he tensed slightly. “You don’t have someone to comfort you from your own nightmares, do you?”

It was more statement than it was question.

“No, I don’t. At least, not most of the time.”

He nodded once more before he adjusted their positions. Within seconds, they laid side by said as they held each other. Neither cared about the brightening of the room, or the hesitant knocks of the Head Girl wondering if Tom was alright.

Considering that she got there just before noon, she understood the girl’s concerns.

All they cared about, was each other, as they held the other close, and just basked in the comfort that their presence brought.

“I love you, Tom Marvolo Riddle,” she murmured after a soft yawn.

He grinned. “And I love you, my lovely little masochistic, Eden.”

Before she could readily agree, he pressed his lips to hers in a deep, possessive, and loving kiss, and kept them there until she faded away.

* * *

_Wednesday, May 2, 1945_

_ Compartment 1—Training Arena_

One second, she stood firmly on the ground.

The next second, she was in the air as her wand fell from her hand after her shield shattered from the strength of the spell that the dummy shot at her.

“Dammit,” she hissed just before she broke into a coughing fit.

“Eden? Are you alright?” Tom demanded as she lay on the ground and attempted to cough her lungs out.

“I’m fine,” she groaned, “I’m going to kill that dummy though.”

She slowly pushed herself up from the large pile of Helpful Pillows, and ignored the way her ribs twinged at the movement. She swatted away a particularly clingy pillow, and her mind clouded with rage as she stared at the fake-blood covered dummy in front of her.

She shifted her position, and pressed her feet into the ground before she ran towards the object. As she ran, she curled her fingers into a fist, and her magic wrapped around her hand in what appeared to be a Raw Shield—she couldn’t really tell, as she was far too focused on Destruction (with a capital D) to really pay much attention to it.

Magic wrapped around her feet, and within seconds, she had her fist embedded into the dummy’s face, and she felt something inside of her tug before the Magic wrapped around her fist, encircled the dummy.

White spells shot from every corner of the room and wrapped around both her and the dummy. The spells lifted her, and formed an opaque Diamond Shield in front of her as she was pinned high to one of the walls. The remaining spells wrapped around the dummy as something began to build in the air.

The air was filled with a stench similar to ozone, but it was bitter and sour, and burned her nose. The smell grew stronger and stronger, until it seemed to suddenly disappear when a bright light and an explosion filled the space. She was forced to close her eyes, as even with the protection of the opaque shield, it was too bright.

A few minutes later, the light died down, and she opened her eyes to see the shield starting to dissipate. When it was clear enough, she saw that where the dummy was before, was just a black puddle on the floor where it had been while the spells had kept it contained. The Magic around her pulled her away from the wall before it moved her to the stairs and unceremoniously shoved her out of the trunk and into the bedroom.

She lay stunned on the floor for a few minutes before the door to Tom’s dorm opened and Tom ran in.

“Eden! You are so brilliant—and stupid—I am so mad right now—I love you!” he snarled as he pulled her into his arms. He pinned her to him, and started to chant in her ear. The unnecessary healing was completed, and she turned to light goo in his arms.

And then she turned to complete goo when he kissed her neck.

“Wh-What did I do?”

“You mixed your Raw Magic with your hand-to-hand training, and destroyed a Magical Object that shouldn’t be _able_ to be destroyed.”

“If it wasn’t supposed to be able to be destroyed, why did you have all of those safety spells in place?”

“One can never be too careful, my love.” He picked her up and moved her to the couch where the two of them sat and began to cuddle.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in class.”

He laughed softly and kissed the side of her neck. “Currently, everyone thinks that I’m suffering from an extreme case of food poisoning, and am in the bathroom vomiting. I’m here to check on you.” She nodded and nuzzled her head into his neck. “We’re going to start adding Magic to your hand-to-hand combat training.”

“Why?”

“Because no one will _ever_ see it coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it, let me know what you think of it.
> 
> I kind of tortured Tom while I was out of town--mainly on the flight because I despise flying--so, if you want to read him updating the Diary, read Memory #5: Updates in In My Memories
> 
> Next GUARANTEED Update: March 7th
> 
> Yes, I'm still struggling with burnout. TT__TT


	27. 26 Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY LEAP YEAR!
> 
> I know that's not a thing, but still. I stayed up passed midnight listening to Michael McIntyre so I could post this and wake up to comments.... heh. Hope you like it

** _Tuesday, May 9, 1995_ **

** _ Library_ **

Eden sat on the hard, wooden chair, surrounded by first years.

She had been studying on her own when they had slowly come up to her, and now she was the ‘leader’ of a group of four Ravenclaws, three Hufflepuffs, two Slytherins, and a single Gryffindor who had an older brother in Slytherin—Markus had graduated the year before.

They had studied quite diligently for the first hour that they had all gathered together, now however, they all laughed at a story that Lucy—an adorable Ravenclaw who _adored_ trying to make new spells—had decided to grace them with of her most recent attempt.

“—and then he just kind of went poof! I found him a week later in the toilet.”

The group started to laugh, and everything was happy, until the first years suddenly stopped when they looked behind her, and their eyes widened as their faces paled. She turned around in her seat, and her eyes fell upon a group of seventh year Gryffindors.

She recognized them as the group who had ambushed her in March.

“This is our table,” the one in the dead center snarled.

She lifted a brow as a smirk tugged at her lips. “Really? I don’t—I don’t see a name on it.” She turned to look at the cowering students that she tutored, “do any of you see a name?” They all hesitantly shook their heads, and she turned back to the Gryffindors. “Ah, see? You must be mistaken.”

“No, I’m not. This is _our_ table. We _always_ sit here.”

Her head tilted to the side, and she spotted another table with three more Gryffindors—her brother and his friends. “You know, actually, I think _that’s_ your table over there.” She pointed her finger, and glowing words appeared above the three lions who were watching with either glee, apathy, or worry.

_This table belongs to Idiotic, Overgrown Housecats, and Hermione Granger_.

She was pleased to see the girl cover her mouth as her shoulders started to shake after she snorted.

“You _bitch_!”

Her attention was brought back to the seventh years. She straightened her head, and narrowed her eyes, even as she started to laugh at them. Her eyes catalogued every movement they made, and her mind spun with the endless possibilities of how the confrontation would end. “No, you see, I’m not a dog. I’m human. But, if you _really_ want to hurt my feelings, you’ll have to try a little bit harder, dear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to help our fellow classmates’ study for their exams. In fact, one of them is a darling little lion, who you should be helping, and I’m actually kind of insulted that you bullied her into believing that she doesn’t belong there because Markus was a Slytherin. Shame on you. You should all be thrown into the mud.”

The biggest of the group pulled his wand, and she immediately raised a Clear Shield around her and the first years. “Go ahead, I _dare_ you to try and hurt me.”

The Clear Shield, while not as strong as a Raw or Diamond Shield, was still extraordinarily strong, and only Curses could get through it—the kind that she didn’t think they’d know, especially since most were Dark in nature, and near impossible for Light types to cast. The problem with the Clear Shield, however, is it took _much_ more magic than any other shield, due to the sheer amount of power it needed to keep it clear and to keep your opponent unaware of it.

The seventh year snarled, and a bright purple light left his wand, and made contact with her shoulder, and the bitter stench of Dark Magic being misused filled the air. She winced at the pain that flared, and blinked back the tears that automatically formed.

What had he cast that got through her Shield?

“What is going on here?”

She had never loved Madam Pince more than when she interrupted his second spell, which could have hit any of the students at the table, as the Shield had fallen. Madam Pince didn’t give the seventh years the option, or opportunity to reply.

Apparently, just seeing their wands was enough to accuse them.

“You five are hereby _banned_ from the library until the end of the school year. You are not allowed to check out any books. Get out of my sight, and make sure to report to Professor Snape for detention every night for the next two weeks at 8 PM sharp.”

Magic tightened in the air at the irate woman’s words, and the five lions left the library with their tails tucked between their legs. The woman turned to the group of eleven. “Thank you, Madam,” they all intoned.

“Of course. Are you all alright?”

The first years all nodded their cute little heads, and Eden inclined her head, more than unwilling to admit that she couldn’t feel her left arm. “We’re fine. Thank you for your concern, Madam, and thank you for your help,” she answered with just enough emotion in her voice to give the impression that she was unaffected by what had just occurred.

The librarian nodded, and stepped away from them while she muttered under her breath something about detentions. After she as gone, the group continued on with their studying, the good cheer destroyed. She ignored the looks that the hatchlings were sending her—apparently, her tricks were not good enough to fool Slytherins (even if they _were_ only first years).

Her brother and his friends left a short while later, and as they walked by, a little note landed on the table next to her. She swiftly opened it with the aid of magic, and read it while the first years continued with their essays.

_Noah,_

_ You need to get that checked out._

_ It’s a paralyzing Curse, and if it’s not treated in time, your entire body will be paralyzed, and the only thing that will be able to heal you would be Aether Magik._

_ Hermione Granger_

Eden smiled at the letter, and turned to see the pale girl bite her lip as she nervously stood by a bookshelf—somehow, she had ditched Leif and the Weasel. She saw the unasked question in nervous brown eyes, and nodded her head. She whispered to the first years that she remembered that she had something she needed to do, and that she would be able to meet with them at the end of the week if they still wanted her help.

She ignored the four thumbs up that the hatchlings sent her as she stood.

She stopped next to Granger, and smiled at her. “Do you want to come with me to the hospital wing?”

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. “Why?”

“Well, you see, I currently don’t have the ability to defend myself as I usually would, what with the fact that I can’t feel my left arm, _at all_, and, you seem to know what Curse it is, and since I don’t know what it is, I think it would be best if you accompanied me.”

The girl paled slightly, and bit her lip again. “What if me doing that, people think that you’re hurting me?” she demanded in a soft voice.

A smile spread Eden’s lips. “I know you don’t trust me, which is completely understandable. Despite that, I’m going to trust _you_ with something that could very well get me expelled.” The girl nodded. “I created an object over the summer, and it allows me to be unseen, like the disillusionment spell. You and I can walk to the hospital wing together, and only you will be seen.” The older girl frowned for a moment, before she nodded.

Eden kept her hand in her robe pockets as she activated her Ring, and once she was invisible, she placed her hand on the suddenly frantic girl’s shoulder. “Shall we go?”

Granger gaped wide-eyed at her voice, and the sudden weight on her shoulder. “You _have_ to tell me how you did that.”

“Alright.”

As the two girls walked to the hospital wing, the two carefully, and quietly talked, and she explained only the theory behind her Ring—she’d explain how she did it if the girl proved to be open to the Darker sides of Magic.

Muggleborns were always an unknown when it came to Dark Magic, as most had either a Darker Light type Core, or a Lighter Dark type Core, or, more commonly, a Neutral type Core.

** _Hospital Wing_ **

As Madam P and Snakey-Snape painstakingly healed her, with Granger standing off to the side as she watched with rapt attention, Eden decided that she would do almost anything to get Granger onto her side.

* * *

** _Saturday, May 12, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

Eden flopped onto the bed and groaned.

“Are you still having issues with Hera?” Tom asked amused. He moved from his desk and laid on the bed next to her, and draped his arm around her and pulled her close to him, so her side pressed against his chest.

She nodded her head and groaned into the bed once more. “I can’t seem to be able to get her away from Bunny or Weasel, and every time I get close to her when she _is_ away from them, they seem to show up in three minutes flat! Before I can even talk to her about plans! It’s _awful_.”

He hummed in the back of his throat and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and she relaxed slightly. “Were you able to Scan her Core like I suggested?”

They had also made a bet on what type she would be, and neither were right.

Tom was closer though.

She turned onto her side and curled into his embrace. She shoved one of her legs in between his, and draped an arm over his side as she nodded her head. “Yeah. She’s a Neutral Core type, like we thought.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her closer, and slipped an arm under her head. “Which one exactly?” She tilted her head up and captured his lips in a deep kiss. Their tongues tangled for a minute before he bit her bottom lip and pulled away. He licked the ache, and laughed softly. “That’s not going to work, love. Which Core type is she?”

She groaned and buried her face into his neck. “If I tell you, you win the bet.”

He pressed a wet, open mouthed kiss against her neck, and she shivered at the feel of his tongue on her skin. “I figured,” he murmured against her neck before he licked it again. She sighed softly and pushed closer to him. “So, she’s a Neutral Dark Gray Core?” She groaned again, and nodded once more. He gently bit her neck, before he licked it again. He suctioned his lips to her skin, and sucked harshly for a moment. “You didn’t lose by much,” he murmured once he pulled away. He shifted their positions, and pressed his lips to her right clavicle and sucked harshly on it, and earned a soft moan in reward. “I just said that I thought she was a Neutral Gray Core.”

“And I thought she was a Pure Neutral Core. I still lost.”

It was less that she thought the girl was a Pure Neutral, and more that she _hoped_ the girl was a Pure Neutral. If she was a Pure Neutral, she would be safe from the Dark Addiction, and she could cast _Medela Aer_ and other Dark healing spells.

Tom rolled her onto her back and hovered over her. He pressed his lips to hers, and licked his way into her mouth. He propped himself on his left forearm, and his right hand slid down the bed before it landed on her side underneath her shirt. His hand moved slowly up and down her side as his tongue leisurely tangled with her own.

He pulled away, and brought his hand out from under her shirt and stroked the side of her face. She tilted her head and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. “At least she’s not a Light type Core.”

It took a moment for her to remember what they were talking about, but when she did, she groaned and nipped at his bicep next to her head. “Please no!” she groaned over his laughter. “None of the plans to have her become a healer like the world has never seen before would _work_ if she were a Light type Core.”

He tilted her head up, and pressed a kiss to her lips. “How do you know that she even _wants_ to be a healer?”

She shrugged. “I don’t. But, over the years she’s seemed to be very interested in the healing aspect of potions, defensive spells, charms, and even transfiguration. She might want to become a politician, but I _believe_ that she most likely wants to become a healer. I’ll ask her about it the next time that I’m able to talk to her in private.”

He nodded and lowered himself, so his hips now pinned her to the bed. His free hand that wasn’t propping him above her, slid under her neck and lifted her head. “Enough talking now,” he murmured.

She smiled, and before she could agree, he captured her lips into a deep kiss that had her toes curling, and her eyes seeing stars.

* * *

** _Sunday, May 13, 1945_ **

** _ Compartment 1—Training Arena_ **

Tom had gotten a stupid idea.

And because of his stupid idea, Eden was currently in the process of being _tortured_ by his ‘brilliant’—_come on, love, please? Everything will be fine, I promise_—idea.

He hadn’t even told her what it was.

To say she was pissed, would be an understatement.

“Come on, love, one more time,” he insisted with what she assumed was supposed to be an encouraging smile.

It was encouraging.

It just wasn’t encouraging her to actually _work_ though.

Murder sounded like quite a _brilliant idea_ at that point.

She looked up from where she was crouched over, and shaking from Drainage. She shook her head and panted harshly after an intense coughing fit that the action caused. “I can’t, Tom. I’m sorry.”

“Love, I know you’re tired. I also know that you can do it.”

She coughed a few more times before she straightened and glared at him, and her frustrations took over fully. He had been pushing her _far_ beyond her limits, and she was so _tired_. A normal person could only train like she had for so long before they snapped from the stress—and she had been training for _months_.

“I. Can’t. Do. It.”

He sighed, and instead of backing off like she had hoped he would, he shot a slimy, black spell at her that had tentacle-like tendrils that reached for her.

Betrayal burned through her stomach for a moment before she jumped to the side and sent the counter spell at the wraiths, and glared at Tom. “Really? The Phantom Form Curse? Are you _trying_ to kill my soul, Tom?”

The Phantom Form Curse was similar to a Dementor’s Kiss, only instead of leaving a person a husk, it turned them _into_ a Dementor.

He said nothing, and only tilted his head towards her. “Eden, you can do it.”

Her legs trembled, and she shook her head. “Why?”

He shot an acidic green Curse at her instead of answering. She hastily erected a Raw Shield. The Curse collided with her Shield, paused for a moment, before it shattered the too-weak protection, and hit her in the chest.

She was tossed back and fell to the ground, and was caught by far too many Helpful Pillows as a boiling rage consumed her whole. The rage grew, and grew, and continued to grow until her skin started to bubble, and Tom canceled the Curse.

She trembled on the ground, as his footsteps slowly walked towards her. He stood over her. “You’re better than that, Eden.” He had spoken with a mixture of _disappointment_ and apathy, as he looked at her with the same emotions in his eyes.

Her heart _shattered_.

She glared at him, angry beyond all belief as the fury from the Curse of Acidic Rage still coursed through her blood. She stood from where she had fallen and battered away a Pillow she had named Fred—she was half-convinced that it was sentient, and in love with her. It was splattered with her blood, and was _always_ faster than the rest to catch her.

Tears spilled down her face. “Damn you, Tom Riddle,” she hissed, her voice raw.

His eyes flashed for a moment. “Say whatever you want, Eden. I’m trying to keep you alive.” He swallowed, and an emotion flitted across his face far too quickly for her to be able to figure it out. “If me keeping you alive makes you hate me . . . s-so be it.”

He sent the Laceration Curse at her, and she stood there, and did _nothing_ as cuts formed along her body and face. “I’m _Drained_, Tom. I _can’t_. Do it.”

“I checked your Core before I told you to do it again. You’ve barely used a fifth of it.”

“Then why am I Drained?”

He casually shrugged, and her heart pounded painfully in her chest as blood dripped down her body, and started to pool on the floor around her. “I don’t know.”

His eyes said he did.

Her eyes narrowed. “Screw this _shit_, and screw _you_, Tom.” She turned and marched toward the stairs until she was hit from a spell from behind. She flipped forward, and flew head over heels until her upper back slammed into the railing with a painful pop.

She landed harshly on the ground, and coughed up blood.

“You’re _weak_, Eden.”

Agony tore at her heart, and tears filled her eyes as she snapped out of her anger. “It’s taken you four and a half years to finally realize that? Welcome to the _Club_, Tom. _Everyone_ already knows that. Hell, _Dragon_ told me that I was too weak just before I Locked my Core away. But guess what. That doesn’t matter. You want to know why? It’s because I’m the _Leader_ of Club Weak Eden.” As she spoke, she pulled herself to her feet, and bit her lip at the feeling of her broken rib moving under her skin.

She turned away from him. She heard his intake of air, and a muffled curse, but ignored him—how it _ached_ to ignore him. Agony tore at her body and heart as she lifted herself onto the first stair. Arms wrapped gently around her waist to stop her.

She snapped completely.

Her magic tore out of her in a hideous wave, and ripped him off of her. She turned around and glared at her boyfriend. “You don’t _get_ to touch me after that.”

She fisted her hand, and a thin line of magic gathered on her knuckles, and she punched him in the face. He didn’t block her, and for that, he got a cut on his upper cheekbone, and she got a painful bruise on her hand.

“You don’t get to hold me after _you’ve_ insulted me in the most _painful_ way possible.”

He stepped away from her, and sent a blast of fire at her. She jumped over the fire, and kept her right leg bent, and straightened her left leg, and kicked it out at him as she fell. A thin blade of magic left the sole of her foot, and a tear in his shirt formed as it quickly began to stain red.

He flicked his right wrist up, so it was perpendicular to his arm, and his fingers were bent, and three thin steel blades left the heel of his palm, and sliced into her. A tear formed on her sports bra, right over the scar that she got—_assumed_ she got—from when the Dark Lord attacked Leif.

She doubled over in pain and cried out as a throb of pure agony shot from the scar, and her heart stuttered to a stop in her chest. She dug her nails into the raw and bleeding scarred skin, and her heart kicked back into gear with a painful jolt.

Tom stepped towards her, and opened his mouth to speak, but she straightened and spoke over him. “I thought you were different. Different from _them_. From _him_.”

From her papa.

She punched him again, and landed an upper cut to his left jaw, and latched onto the side of his neck, as he sliced into her side with a whip of Raw Magic. She cried out, and he punched her in the stomach, and she was forced to stop pushing painful waves of magic into him. He sent a pulse of his own magic into her, and she jumped up and back, and landed twenty feet away from him, as she breathed deeply.

Somehow, she had forgotten in her anger and betrayal, that Tom gave as good as he got. He always had, and he always would.

As she glared at him, and saw him start to gather his own magic into fine little projectiles, her magic unBound itself completely. Her hair was torn out of its high ponytail, and her feet lifted off of the ground slightly. “You’re hurting me . . . just as _he_ did.”

She summoned a metal staff that had deadly spikes all over it, except for where her hands would touch. If her hands moved, the spikes would move to a different part of the staff. She ran towards him, and swung it at his head. He dodged to the side, and just barely missed being brained, and the little projectiles he made faded.

He sent a deadly wave of Raw Magic towards her, and she spun the staff, and dissipated it with Ancient Battle Magick.

She slammed the butt of the spiky quarterstaff against the ground, and the top of it was encased in Black Fire. She turned to the side, and swung the staff to her right, where he was. The deadly flames shot towards him, and he quickly erected a Black Shield before the magic-sucking flames could touch him.

“I thought you _loved_ me,” her voice cracked, and agony—misery torment woe _torture_—pierced her heart once more.

The full weight and power of his magic surged forward, and easily fought through her own hazy rage until he was able to bind her in place. He also subdued the deadly force that was completely connected to her fatal emotions.

“Believe what you want,” he hissed as he held her face in his large hands, “but don’t you_ ever_ doubt my love for you again.”

Her magic ate through the bonds that held her, and tossed him away from her. “Then why say all of that?” Tears spilled out of her eyes as her lips trembled.

“To get you to unBind your magic.”

A choked sob escaped her tight throat. “My magic is too dangerous to just _do_ that, Tom. You _know_ that! I could hurt someone. You _know_ I need to be _calm_ and _safe_ for it to be safe for _me_ to unBind my Core.”

He shook his head, and tried to smile placatingly at her. “It’s not, love. You won’t hurt anyone. You were angry, but you were safe. Your magic knew that.”

Despair ate at her as the insults he had used to get his way echoed through her mind. Her magic—which currently had a mind entirely of its own (and was servant to her emotions)—wrapped around him, lifted him up, and tossed him away. He was caught on the other side of the room by the Helpful Pillows—Fred, ever the loyal Pillow, stayed next to her (she’d bet money that he’d be a Hufflepuff).

She quickly reBound her magic with great difficulty, as she was no longer used to Binding the entirety of it at once. When he stood and started towards her, as his magic reached for her, she grabbed her wand from her holster, and pointed it at her temple.

It was the only way.

“_Rennervate_.”

* * *

** _Sunday, May 14, 1995_ **

** _ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_ **

It hurt more awake, than it did asleep.

Granted, it _always_ hurt more awake than asleep. She never told Tom, but the pain she felt when she was with him was always dulled than when she woke up.

Honestly, the only thing that ever felt _real_ when she was with him were his kisses. His touch, while electrifying, firm, and grounding, almost felt as if he were trying to touch her through a thin layer of fabric.

She breathed deeply, and she cried out as multiple of the lacerations on her stomach were tugged. She curled into a small ball, and sobbed desperately for a few minutes as she tightly reBound a large portion of her magic away before she loosely Bound what was left of her Core. Once that was done, she lay there for what felt like an eternity as she sobbed, and sobbed.

She twitched, and pain shook her entire body once more.

Eventually, the pain grew too much, and she climbed out of her blood-soaked bed. When she looked up, nausea filled her soul when she saw faint scratches on Daphne’s, Pansy’s, Millicent’s, and Ambrosia’s—she must have fallen asleep studying again (she had been doing that a lot more lately)—exposed skin.

Her loose magic unBound, and brushed over them, and healed the wounds. She whispered a silent apology, and left, shame eating away at her heart.

** _Slytherin Boys Fourth Year Dorm—2_ **

“Eden? What happened?” Draco demanded softly after she woke him up.

Eden was quiet with her tears, as she didn’t want to wake Theo or Blaise up. She bit her lip as she carefully climbed onto the bed next to him. She bled profusely from the injuries, and her heart ached—throbbed prayed begged _yearned_—more than her body did.

“Backfired spell,” she answered through a short gasp when he sat up and moved to be on top of the covers like her. “Can you fix it?”

He playfully glared at her, although it was marred by the worry in his eyes. “Of course, I can.” He grabbed her hands and began to cast a silent spell. “Why are you crying?”

_You’re weak, Eden._

“It hurts.”

He lifted an unamused brow, and she squirmed at both the look, and the feel of her skin stitching itself back together. “Why else?”

_You’re better than that, Eden._

She looked down, and watched his fingers turn black, and as hard as stone. She blinked away the tears before she looked into his pitch-black eyes. The coloring faded as he lifted his brow again, and she stared into the silvery depths that seemed to be able to pierce straight through her soul.

“I had a bad dream,” she eventually answered. It was only after he poked her with his rock-hard fingers a couple—twelve—times though.

“What level? Like, was it Rothound or the Dark Lord attacking you?”

“It’s its own kind of monster.”

His eyes widened at the implications, and he carefully wrapped her aching body in his long arms, and pulled the covers over them. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a moment of silence.

Her eyes widened, and her heart stuttered before she buried her face in his chest as tears started to fall down her face. “No. I just wanna forget about it.”

He rubbed her back. “I’ll get some Dreamless Sleep from Uncle Severus.”

She held him tighter, and her sobs grew stronger.

“Thank you.”

** _Trunk Bedroom—Bathroom_ **

That night, when she stood in front of the mirror before she climbed into the tepid water of her large bathtub, she stared at the pale scars that decorated her body, and would forever remain a reminder of their fight.

* * *

** _Wednesday, May 17, 1995_ **

** _ Hogwarts Library_ **

“Is everything alright?”

Eden flinched, and wiped at the tears on her face. She looked up and saw Hermione standing there, obviously very concerned.

“What?”

The lightly tanned girl sat down and turned the chair to face her. “Did you get into a fight with one of your friends?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re crying into a book. That’s what I do whenever I get into a fight with either Ron or Leif.”

Eden huffed softly, and wiped at more tears and shook her head. “No. Not with one of my friends.”

“Who?”

“Tom—he’s—he’s my boyfriend.”

Understanding filled the older girl’s eyes, and she moved to the chair next to her, and wrapped her arms around her. “Shh,” she soothed. No matter how hard she tried, Eden couldn’t stop the tears, and started to sob earnestly into Hermione’s hold.

She was the first person she told about the fight. All of her friends thought that it was just a nightmare . . . although . . . Ambrosia was convinced it was something more, and due to that, Draco and Pansy were starting to think the same thing.

“It’s okay. I’m sure everything will work out.”

Leif looked up from the book in his hands, and stopped short. His head tilted to the side of its own will, and he followed his ears to the sobbing he heard in the back corner where Hermione sometimes liked to study.

He stopped when he saw his sister.

She was wrapped in his best friend’s arms, and was practically in her lap while she was sobbed while Hermione rocked her side to side.

“I just—I miss him!” she hiccupped.

“I’m sure Tom will forgive you if you just go meet up with him again, Eden.”

“But—I did some pretty awful things.” What had his innocent baby sister done that could be qualified as _awful_?

“From what you told me, Tom said and did some pretty awful things too.”

Rage filled him, and he hated himself.

He didn’t have the right to think about Noah that way, not after the way he had treated her. He didn’t have the right to _feel_ that way, protective over her, after the way he treated her. He didn’t have the right to be jealous and over-protective over the fact that his little sister had apparently found someone named ‘Tom’ and had gotten into a fight with him.

The fact that his name was Voldemort’s only made the following rage—this time directed at Noah—only worse.

How dare she?

How _dare_ she find someone?

How _dare_ she fall in love?

Horror filled him. What if it was _Voldemort_ that she had fallen in love with?

Leif had started receiving ‘supplemental lessons’ after Noah’s name had been drawn, as Professor Dumbledore thought that it might be an indication that he—Voldemort—was making a move against him.

What if his move was to put her in the Tournament . . . and then _woo_ his sister?

His face contorted into a sneer of disgust.

Apparently along with being a pervert, the ‘darkest wizard in history’ thought that he and his sister were close.

No.

That phrase—even the phrase of being on speaking terms—couldn’t be further from the truth.

He wanted Noah gone.

He wanted Noah to stand by his side until they both died.

He didn’t know _what_ he wanted when it came to Noah.

Eden pulled away from Hermione and wiped at her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She reached out and wiped at her tears. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head before she thought for a moment. “No . . .. But, say, what do you want to do after you graduate?”

She smiled. “I want to be a healer,” she said instantly.

“Really?” She couldn’t help the curl of satisfaction that ate at her.

“Yeah. I want to specialize in healing magical creatures.”

She smiled. “You’ll be great at it.” She had two years to work on that little aspiration—two years to make her see _her_ point of view.

“Of course, she will. She’s Hermione Granger. The brightest witch of our age.”

She flinched, and looked to her brother, and saw the conflicted emotions in his eyes. She couldn’t tell what they were—she no longer knew who he was—only that he was conflicted. “Leif,” she said, the pain and hurt only slightly masked, and the tears threatened to fall again.

Hermione stroked her back as he spoke, “Noah.”

Eden turned to Hermione. “Thanks for helping me. I’ll see you around.”

She was gone before anyone could make her stop.

She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

* * *

** _Sunday, May 21, 1995_ **

** _ Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_ **

She took the Dreamless Sleep potion for a week before she went back to him.

She would have taken it for longer, but her heart hurt too much.

* * *

** _Monday, May 21, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“I’m sorry,” Tom chanted as he held Eden tight against him.

He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes. He had dark circles around his own, and he looked completely exhausted, and not put together at all. His eyes had a feverish glint to them, and she knew from his hold on her that he didn’t have a fever. “I’m so damn sorry,” he begged before he pulled her back to him, tighter than he had before.

She nuzzled his neck with her forehead. “I’m sorry, too.”

His hands trailed down her back and over her butt before he lifted her and pressed a deep, sweet kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

She kissed him back. “I love you, too, Tom.”

* * *

** _Friday, May 25, 1945_ **

** _ History of Magic Classroom_ **

Poke.

Tensed back.

Poke.

White-knuckled grip.

Poke.

Ink splatter.

Poke.

Chair squeak.

Poke.

Dropped quill.

Poke.

Jerked chair.

Poke.

Groan.

Poke.

Grabbed quill.

Poke.

White-knuckled grip. Again.

Poke.

Spilled ink bottle—saved at last second.

Poke.

Nothing.

Poke.

Groan.

Poke.

Nothing. Again.

Poke.

Nope.

Poke.

_Hey_ . . .!

Change of tactic.

Hair pull.

Groan.

Poke—

“Tom? Are you alright?” Abraxas asked softly through the corner of his mouth. His brow was furrowed, and he looked very concerned.

He slouched slightly when the professor looked over at him with a raised brow, before he continued to teach. Eden had to bite her lips to stifle a giggle, and poked Tom again, this time on the side of his nose. He huffed, and she knew that he was most _thoroughly_ regretting allowing her to join him in class.

“I’m—_fine_,” he hissed, after he paused for a moment to add more vitriol to the final word after she poked him again, that time in his ear.

“Are—” the Peacock Bastard swallowed, “are you sure?”

He stiffly nodded and continued—attempted, if she had anything to say about it—to take notes on the Egyptian Rebellion of 1584. She had long since come to the definitive conclusion that Professor Binns had died when he had been teaching the Goblin Wars Unit—which Tom’s class just finished—and now that was all he taught in her time, now that he was dead.

He was also _far_ more observant when he was alive, and a fairly fantastic teacher—if his brain hadn’t been screwed with after he died, he would have continued to be a _great_ teacher.

Poke.

He flinched as her fingernail poked the outer corner of his eye, and inhaled deeply. Before she could move to either poke him again, or run far, _far_ away, his magic wrapped tightly around her, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he would punish her.

Ever since their fight a few days ago, things hadn’t been the same.

She stood still and patient for five minutes before she got an idea, and poked him with her magic. She bit her lips until they bled when she heard something akin to that of a dying whale.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

** _Abandoned Classroom_ **

The door to the classroom closed behind her, and she leaned against it as she waited for the verdict—she hoped to Morgana and the Olde gods that he wouldn’t choose Abyss.

He stood ten feet away from her with his back towards her. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his side, and she feared that his hands would break if he continued to do so. He took a deep breath, nodded, and turned around.

He rapidly moved towards her, and was in front of her in seconds. The heat of his body seeped into her skin through her thin cotton clothing, and for some strange reason, she felt nervous. His hands cupped her face, and his lips fell on hers. The kiss started out sweet and slow, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, and pulled him closer.

That action seemed to be all of the encouragement he needed, because one hand moved to her hair, gripped harshly, and tilted her head back. The other hand moved to her throat and squeezed slightly, and her blood throbbed. His tongue shoved into her mouth with a fiery intensity that quickly had her seeing stars as the grip on her throat tightened, along with the pressure on her scalp.

He pulled away slightly, and bit harshly at her bottom lip before he dove back into her mouth. The bitter taste of iron flooded her taste buds, and the hand in her hair released her. It trailed down her back, the nails cutting into her skin through her shirt, and passed her butt and to her left thigh where he lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist.

She easily wrapped her other leg around his waist, and his hand was under her shirt, and before she could do anything, it had been vanished, and she was left in her sports bra.

He allowed her one short gasp of air, before he was back on her, his tongue in her mouth, and his mouth somehow devouring the air in her lungs. The hand on her back dug into her skin, almost painfully, and a soft moan left her lips and tumbled into his mouth.

The kiss somehow deepened, and soon, due to his grip tightening on her throat, and the tongue attempting to become one with her, she couldn’t breathe. He continued to devour her until she was sure she was going to pass out. Her head started to spin, and her grip slackened, and he pulled away.

She gasped for precious air as he rested his forehead against hers, and his thumb started to rub soothing circles on the hollow of her throat. His hot breath fanned against her face, and despite the many times they had done this, she had never felt as close to him as she did in that moment.

He started to mouth at the skin of her cheek, and he slowly made his way to her left ear with the feather-light touches where he started to nibble lightly on the lobe.

“I love you, Tom,” she murmured softly. She adjusted her grip from around his shoulders, and ran a hand through his hair.

He lifted his head and pressed another achingly soft kiss to her lips. “And I love you, my dearest, Eden.” He kissed her softly again before he rested his head on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss against the side of her neck—near her shoulder—where a thin, white scar lay. “I’m so sorry,” he muttered against her shoulder.

She tilted her head to the right and pressed a kiss to his hair, and willed the tears back as she rested the crown of her head against the wooden door behind her. “It’s okay, Tom.”

“No, it’s not.” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep the tears from falling at how _wrecked_ he sounded. She had never known Tom Riddle to ever regret _anything_.

The fact that he regretted something . . . and it had to do with her . . ..

She bit her tongue, and blood flooded her mouth.

“_Yes_, it is, Tom.” He looked up and wiped her face, and her heart broke even more to see the tears in his eyes. “Tom, it’s _normal_ for couples to fight. Hell, we’ve fought before. What’s so different about this time?”

Other than the fact that they fought physically _and_ verbally instead of just physically or verbally, it was nearly the same as any other fight they had had in the past—even her staying _away_ for a short time was the same.

The only _main_ difference between the last fight, and other fights they’d had, was the fact that they both used Curses and Ancient Magicks that were _worse_ than their usual spells, hexes, jinxes, and curses.

That was a fact that, unfortunately, couldn’t be forgotten—no matter how much they both wished it could be.

He dropped his head, and kissed the scar that lay right where her shoulder and neck met.

“I wasn’t able to heal you, and I went _way_ too far.”

She ran her fingers through his hair again, and tightened her legs around his waist. She shivered, and her shirt was back on her body—she would _always_ be impressed at his ability to be able to remove and put on clothes with magic (she could only remove them without mishap, and _occasionally_ she could put them on).

“It takes two to tango, Tom. We’ve both been extraordinarily stressed for the last seven months due to the Tournament. And . . . and . . . we just ended up taking our frustrations out on each other. We both said horrid things, but now . . . now it’s time that we move on and grow from this.”

He smiled against her shoulder before he lifted his head. She wiped his face, and he wiped her own. “Who told you that?”

She grinned. “Wings and Padfoot. I just told them that I had a fight with my sparring partner, and they told me that after I explained the bare basics to them of what happened. They then went on to recount the _many_ fights that they had that were similar to our own.”

He nodded thoughtfully. She still saw the guilt that gnawed at him in the back of his eyes. “Have they been cleared for adoption yet?”

“No,” she groaned. She nuzzled his neck with her forehead, and he tightened his hold on her. “At this point, _my_ PTSD is worse than theirs, and _I’m_ allowed around children at school to tutor them.”

He chuckled. “Love, I hate to tell you this, but you don’t have PTSD.”

“_Exactly_.”

He laughed again, and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Maybe one day, we can take a break and work on Hera, and finding a way to get Padfoot and Wings cleared for adoption.”

She grinned and kissed his cheek. “You’re the best, Tom.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, and put her down so he could grab his things. As they left the classroom, he spoke:

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the next guaranteed date is.... N/A
> 
> I recovered from the burnout for a little while, was able to work on a lot of other things, and every time I opened the folder for In My Dreams, I felt like my entire world was crashing down around me. So... yeah. It will be updated, probably on my birthday--because your comments Siriusly make my week--but, I don't do well with deadlines, so, deadlines have to be removed. 
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter. I promise you when I say that the only thing that was planned in this chapter was the History of Magic scene. A majority of this was written right after I got out of a pretty bad spot of Depression and Writers Block, and my Muse had abandoned me. I was at work, and she came back and said ‘time to write, sucker!’. 
> 
> I had none of my timelines with me, none of my plans, and ended up writing the fight between Tom and Eden, and I needed to be able to work it in, because I liked how it turned out, and Musella—my Muse—would have killed all of my hopes and dreams of ever becoming a published writer if I got rid of it. I’m just grateful I’m a chauffeur of sorts and was able to do it between stops. 
> 
> Let’s just say I don’t leave home without a notebook with a list of scenes to write next.
> 
> OH! Another note, I've started to be able to post the stuff that I've written for the competition on here, and the next one will probably be posted Monday after I get my judging feedback back, and it's quite possibly one of my favorite things I have ever written.


	28. 27 Hellish Tasks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured since it's Leap Day, you get two chapters. I hope you like it.

** _Sunday, May 27, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“Damn you.”

Tom looked up from his breakfast and stared at Eden with furrowed brows. “Excuse me?” What had he done? Everything had been fine since Friday. Had he done something that he wasn’t aware of doing?

She glared at him. “_Damn you_ to _Hell_ and _back_, Tom,” she snarled. She ignored his gaze, and he scrambled after her as she stomped to the trunk at the foot of his bed.

What had he done?

They needed to _talk_.

She stopped next to it. “Come on. Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

He turned her around and stared into her eyes, and saw fear, anger, and apprehension. “Love, what are you talking about? Have I done something?”

She softened, and stood on her tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss that had his blood boiling. “No. You haven’t done anything. I found out that the Third Task is a _labyrinth_ with obstacles. Against the other Champions. Come on. Either you draw the ten, or _I_ draw the ten, and I _really_ don’t want to do that.”

His mouth fell open, and he blinked multiple times as he stared at her. He wrapped his arms around her. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

He didn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t want to do.

“You _know_ I don’t want to go in there. The only reason that I _would_ go in there is if I absolutely had to.”

True.

He pulled his wand, and drew the ten.

** _Compartment 10—Labyrinth_ **

She huddled close to his back when they stepped off of the stairs. In front of them was a single opening into the labyrinth, and in front of it was a glimmering red wall in front of them that would keep most of the creatures away from this part of the room.

“Are you ready?”

“No.”

He laughed, and turned around and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Eden.”

She nodded against his chest. “I know. Just because I know that doesn’t mean that I’m not scared.”

He kissed her head, and held her closer. “If you weren’t so cunning, love, I’d think that you’re a Gryffindor with all of your courage. Before you protest, know that courage is different than bravery.”

“Which is?”

“Courage is smart, bravery is stupid. That’s the short answer.” His heart warmed when she laughed, and pressed a kiss against his heart.

He loved her so much it hurt.

“I’m ready.”

“There’s my girl,” he soothed softly. He released her, and she stood next to him, but quickly moved to stand behind him after they crossed the barrier. He checked to make sure that the Attraction Spell was still activated—he knew it was, but it didn’t hurt to check—and was pleased when he found his suspicions correct.

He’d leave it up until she stopped trembling, and then he’d lessen the amount of the spell so the creatures other than Abyss and Thorin would be able to leave the center—those two were the strongest, and well . . . if he ever tried to constrain them, he didn’t think he’d live very long _despite_ the relationship he shared with both creatures.

They reached their first intersection, and he paused. “Which way love?”

“Out?” she squeaked as her grip tightened on his shirt.

It hurt that she was so scared. “Are you sure?”

“No.”

He easily manipulated his thick magic and maneuvered it, so it wrapped around her. She relaxed the tight hold she had on his shirt, and while she was still pressed up against him, she wasn’t doing so out of fear. “Left?”

“Sure.”

His magic wrapped tighter around her, and the two continued on.

Why those in her time thought that it was appropriate to send _children_ through a maze with quite possibly _very_ dangerous creatures—if they were supplied by Hairy, then they would most _definitely_ be dangerous creatures—was _far_ beyond him.

One of the Dire Class Creatures landed in front of him, and he had to suppress a groan, even as he smiled softly at the bird. His smile widened only slightly when he felt his witch curl more into his back.

“What is that?” she demanded in a shaky voice as she peered around him from his right.

“This is one of five Dire Ravens. He’s my favorite one, actually. His name is Thorin. He’s the first Dire Raven that I conjured, and just like Abyss, he’s been Nurtured enough that he is no longer a Conjuration.”

He felt her shudder, and she held tighter to him, and he wrapped his magic around her more firmly in an attempt to comfort her. He knew that she already _despised_ the thought of Abyss, and he assumed that the fact that he was now a real, living, breathing creature that she couldn’t easily Banish or Dissolve made that intense fear and dislike even worse.

“You can do that?” she squeaked.

He felt only _kind of_ bad that he found that to be adorable.

“Only with species that are Born of Magic.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, he could picture the frown that puckered her lips, and the little line between her eyes as her left brow furrowed—_Merlin_, he loved her, _so much_.

“Is it like asexual reproduction?”

He was proud that she remembered that.

“Sort of. It’s far more complicated than that though.”

Thorin looked between him and Eden. “What species are Born of Magic?”

“Dire Class Creatures, Hellhounds, and War Class Creatures are the only ones that I know of for sure that are Born entirely of Magic. There may be other Hell Class Creatures that are Born that way, but, not much is known about Hell Class Creatures outside of Hellhounds.”

“What about Hell Bats?”

“There are Hell Bats?”

“_Shit_.” He laughed too hard to reprimand her. “Anyways! Moving on. How do you do it? How are they Born?”

Thorin started to pick at his feathers, _far_ more patient than he usually would be. “It’s quite simple, actually. Not as simple as asexual reproduction though. A Magic Born starts out as an idea—a Conjuration. Once you have the Conjuration in reality, if you’re strong enough, and patient enough, you’ll be able to Feed it enough Magic that it can develop its own Core. Once that happens, it becomes a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood creature.”

“Can I make one? Will you help me make one?”

She was practically vibrating against his back.

He snorted. “After the Tournament has finished.”

“Promise?”

He smiled softly at her over his shoulder. “I Promise that if you still want to make one after the Tournament, I will help you make one.”

Thorin stretched his neck out, obviously tired of being ignored. Tom reached out a hand with Raw Magic coated on his fingers, and brushed them along the side of the bird’s face. His magic oozed into Thorin, and the giant bird made a contented noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr—he suspected that Thorin had been spending far too much time with the Dire Tigers and Abyss (if he wanted to find either of them, he usually found the seven together).

“**The female**?” he demanded in a scratchy, yet melodic voice.

“**Thorin, this is Eden**.”

“**Ahh, your Chosen Mate. I wish to speak with her**.”

He thought for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes. “**Play nice**.”

“**I always do**.”

He went to protest, and then thought better of fighting with a ten-foot-tall bird—even if he _was_ Thorin’s Human. He turned from the Dire Raven, and to his Eden.

“What language were you speaking?” she demanded, obviously terrified.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead to sooth her. “The Dire Language. Thorin wishes to speak with you, but in order to do that, he needs to give you the ability to speak the Dire Language.” When she hesitated, he cupped her beautiful face in his hands. “It’s fine, my love. It won’t hurt you, or take away your ability to speak Parseltongue, and Thorin won’t hurt you.”

He pressed several kisses to her lips until she relented with a glare.

She was _so_ going to kill him.

Eden took a deep breath before she moved from Tom’s arms, and stood in front of the stupid big bird. She turned around and looked pleadingly at Tom, and he nodded his head.

Not what she wanted.

She took a deep breath before she carefully created a small ball of Raw Magic, and held it out to the Raven with a shaky hand.

“Do I touch it to him or—”

Before she could finish the question, the bird stretched out its neck, opened its beak that happened to be larger than her _head_, and swallowed the small ball whole before it lunged towards her.

She screamed, backed away, tripped, and fell. The Raven lunged towards her with its beak wide open. She closed her eyes and adverted her head, and shivered when something warm, slimy, and slightly rough, first brushed against her throat, and then shoved its way into her mouth.

She opened her eyes as she choked on the long, thin tongue as it dove into the back of her mouth and down her throat for a moment before it pulled away. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, and retched.

She felt gross—sick help don’t _violated_—as the bird took a heavy step away from her and bent down to look at her.

“**Why is it that you humans all react the same way after they are Blessed with the Dire Language**?” he demanded kindly in a curious tone. She shivered at the contradictions in how she’d describe his voice—comforting, and disconcerting.

“**Would you like it if something approximately ten-times your size shoved their _tongue_ into your mouth and down your throat without warning or permission**?” she croaked.

The head that was about the size of her torso tilted to the side as beady eyes studied her with a deep, semi-unsettling intelligence. “**No. I suppose that I would not appreciate that. I apologize**.”

She shook her head, and spared a glare towards an amused Tom and pushed herself to her feet. “**It’s not your fault. Tom should have _warned me_. Speaking of Tom, he said that you wanted to speak with me**.”

“**Indeed**.” The bird cleared its throat—how did it do that? “**Tom loves you. Deeply**.”

She flushed and nodded her head. “**I know**.”

“**He would tear the world apart and burn the shattered pieces to _nothing_ if you but asked it of him**.” Tom’s arms wrapped around her waist, and his chin rested on the top of her head. She leaned into his embrace, and was slightly disturbed with how the bird keenly watched them.

Warmth still coiled in her stomach though, and a silly smile crossed her face when he pressed a kiss to the top her head, and tightened his hold on her. “**I know**.”

“**What would you do for him**?”

Was—was she getting the shovel talk . . . from . . . from a _bird_? A _Dire Raven_? When black, beady eyes narrowed when she remained silent for a touch too long—a mere half-second—she decided that she most definitely _was_ receiving the shovel talk.

From a bird.

How strange.

“**Everything in my power**.” She tilted her head to the side and studied the gleaming Dire Raven. “**What would _you_ do for him, Thorin**?”

Tom snorted as the Raven drew back before a sound that had the _potential_ to be laughter echoed around them. “**I would die for him. He is my Human**,” the bird eventually answered.

She nodded her head even though she didn’t completely understand what he meant by ‘my Human’. “**Good**.”

“**Thorin**,” Tom started from behind her, “**I told you to play nice.**”

“**But**—”

“**No buts. Play nice, or no magic for a day**.”

“**Fine**,” he pouted.

The three stood around, and Thorin and Tom talked about things she didn’t quite understand, and she slowly started to become more okay with the idea of being in the dark Labyrinth.

She knew the second that she met one of the creatures in there with her, that that opinion would change forever. She _also_ knew that she would suffer the consequences of not training for the Third Task if she _ever_ met Abyss.

It was about seven minutes after she had been ‘Blessed’ with the Dire Language before Thorin insisted on taking Tom on a quick fly of the room—apparently it was something they did often. After a few minutes of arguing, the Raven just picked Tom up, threw him onto his back, before he took flight.

They both ignored the vile words that filled the room.

She laughed at the shocked look on Tom’s face, and quelled the panic that started to rise, to the best of her ability before it could devour her whole. She looked around for a moment before she decided that staying in the place that they had left her would be the best thing to do until the two returned. She leaned against the wall, and watched the bird until she could no longer see him due to the height of the walls.

She held out her left hand, and began to practice summoning and controlling Frostfyre—nearly the exact opposite of Fiendfyre, in that instead of burning everything it froze things instead, and was much easier to control. Once she had a fairly steady Flame in her hand, she flexed her right hand, and summoned a small ball of normal fire.

While she mainly focused on the Frostfyre, she started tossing the fireball in her right hand. It was done in part to entertain herself—because Frostfyre was fairly boring to look at—but mostly done in prep for a Battle Magick spell that she wanted to learn, but she needed to be at least _decent_ in throwing fireballs.

She had been at the task of multitasking and throwing fire increasingly higher above her head for a good three minutes before a low growl to her right startled her, and the flames sputtered out and died.

She looked up and paled when her wide, green eyes landed on the rotting form of Abyss.

Nope.

Nope.

_Bloody nope_.

She was done.

No more practice for her.

_Ever_.

The fifteen-foot tall Hellhound was crouched so his chin was still eight feet off of the ground. He had patches of fur with strange, red markings, and then patches of rotting flesh with hints of rotting bone. His mouth was open in a vile snarl, and black drool connected his top canines to his bottom canines, and his horns arched high above his head into deadly points.

Piercing red orbs met her own, and she froze.

The Hellhound took a large step towards her, and her back stiffened. The beast continued to approach her until her magic broke free of its tight constraints when he lunged for her.

She screamed, and her right hand extended out towards him while her left arm covered her face. She felt a strong tugging on her Core, and then there was a painful snap as her magic unBound itself. There was a howl of rage proceeded by a thunderous crash, which triggered another deafening roar.

“Eden!”

She paid no mind to the shout of her name from high above her head.

Her legs turned to jelly, and she fell, heavy to the ground. She paid no mind to the pain that ricocheted from her knees as she stared at the hound that was in a limp pile nearly 100 feet away from her. She fell back on her butt when the hound stirred. She whimpered and tried to scoot back, but was frozen in fear as it stood and limped toward her.

Her magic snapped around her at every little movement he made, and even though he looked worse for wear, it was still running wild. Just before Abyss stepped within range of her violent—fierce scared anxious _protective_—magic, he laid down and bore his neck to her.

She and her magic both faltered for a moment, before her magic pulled closer to her, and he crawled towards her until he once more met the barrier forty feet in front of her. The pattern continued until he was ten feet in front of her, and her magic was a fearful and foggy haze between the two of them.

“**I will bring you no harm, child**.”

Her eyes widened at the deep, and somehow _soothing_, gravelly voice. His head rested on his front paws, and he stared at her, understanding, and want in his eyes—at least, what that’s what she _thought_ she saw there.

“You can speak?” she demanded in shaky voice.

The Hellhound slowly closed his eyes before he opened the blood-red orbs once more. She tried to avoid looking at the gashes in his face, and the rotting flesh that hung from it as well—which was very difficult.

“**Yes. I understand many languages**.”

She moved into a hesitant crouch as she stared at him. “How are you talking without moving your mouth?”

“**The Language of the Underworld does not require the movement of my mouth. Come to me, child. No harm will come to you**.”

“Why not? Why do I understand you?”

“**You have earned my respect. When you tossed me away with your Pure Magic, I was able to give you the ability to understand the Language of the Underworld**.”

“Huh . . . that was _far_ more pleasant than learning the Dire Language.”

The Hellhound huffed in derision. “**I imagine so. Now come. Please**.”

She slowly stood, and stepped towards the Hellhound and stopped when she was two feet in front of him.

She blinked.

He had a massive head. Like, _stupidly huge_ head. The top of it was even with her own head with him laying the way he was, with his head on the ground, and his paws on either side of it, and that wasn’t including his horns which added another three feet to his height—so he was actually eighteen feet.

“**Scratch me**.”

“Pardon?”

“**Behind my left ear next to my horn. I have an itch. I cannot seem to be able to reach it. I have had it for days, so, if you would be so kind** . . .”

Her left eyebrow furrowed before she stepped forward and did as commanded—asked? As she scratched his surprisingly soft fur, his back leg started to thump against the ground, and something akin to a smile appeared on his face as he somehow purred—although, it sounded like a groan as well (a purring-groan perhaps?).

“**Oh yeah . . . _that_ is the spot. Keep going**,” he purred.

Tom stood wide-eyed on Thorin’s back as the Dire Raven hovered above the Labyrinth. His heart still thundered in his chest from watching Eden toss Abyss away from her, and he wanted to go down there and check her over, but . . . what he saw, made him hesitate.

Abyss was on his back, with his legs kicking in the air as Eden scratched at his torn belly.

As she scratched, he saw the magic that coated her fingers, and saw it _spill_ into Abyss. The wounds that Tom hadn’t been able to get rid of after Abyss developed his own Core, started to slowly heal and close until he was no longer rotting. He now looked like a huge wolf with the Markings of a Hellhound, and had the typical tears in the mouth like a Hellhound—why evolution thought that _Hellhounds_ needed to be able to open their mouths 100 degrees was _beyond_ him—and had the typical Hellhound horns, but no longer was he _rotting_ like Hellhounds did.

When Abyss rolled over onto his right side, and Eden’s sweet laughter rang out at something the hound told her, his heart warmed at the sight. When the Hellhound rolled onto his stomach and gently licked Eden’s face, and then had her climb onto his back, he realized something.

Abyss was more Eden’s, than he could _ever_ belong to Tom now.

He found that he wasn’t upset about it as he thought he would be.

Eden gripped tightly onto fur that shined as Abyss stood, and she tightened her hold on him with her hands, and knelt on his back. The beast let out a vicious roar, crouched, and then began to sprint.

Laughter tore through her lips and fell into the air as the wind whipped her hair behind her. Her eyes watered as they approached a twenty-foot-tall wall, and then they flew.

Kind of.

Abyss jumped when he was about thirty feet away from the wall, and they landed on top of the eight-foot-wide structure. He crouched once more, roared again, and then they were off. They leapt over the pathways, and continued to run along the top of the Labyrinth.

She saw many creatures as they did so: giant tigers, wolves that were smaller than Abyss, a Nightmare, and even a couple giant turtles before they were forced to stop when Thorin cut them off.

“Abyss, what are you doing?” Tom demanded with his arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl that would have been fearsome, were it not for the pure _amusement_ in his eyes.

The Hellhound growled lowly as it crouched slightly. “**I have decided to take Eden for a little run**.”

“I see that.” His lips twitched, and she giggled. He winked at her. “Where exactly is your destination?”

Abyss whimpered slightly before he stood tall, and would have towered over Tom had Thorin not raised himself so Tom was even with Abyss once more. “**Where I sleep**.”

He scowled, and opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “What’s the big deal, Tom love?”

“He sleeps in the center of the Labyrinth where it’s the most dangerous, as there’s an Attraction Spell Activated to make the creatures be more in the center.”

Abyss growled once more, and crouched, and she was about 99% sure that he was going to pounce at Tom. “**I will not let any harm come to my Human**.”

What was with the ‘Human’ stuff?

Tom didn’t seem to be surprised at the Claim. “She may be your Human, but she’s the _love_ of _my_ life.” He then proceeded to say something in a language she couldn’t understand, and Abyss relaxed underneath her.

A silly grin covered Eden’s face, and he winked at her. “**You may join us, but I _will_** **show my Human where I spend my time when you are not here**.”

Tom groaned in the back of his throat. “You’re a pest, Abyss.”

Abyss purred. “**Oh, I know**.”

* * *

** _Monday, May 29, 1995_ **

** _ Riddle Manor_ **

It was _finally_ there.

Voldemort nodded his thanks to Barty as he carefully placed the trunk that still pulsed with Magic in front of him. He shifted slightly in his chair, and gestured for the man to leave, who did so reluctantly.

He didn’t blame the man, after all, he had been curious about it for over two months now.

He waited until he was completely alone in the house before he sent his magic towards the trunk. A glowing ten appeared on the lid, and the seam that separated the top from the bottom glowed before it popped open. A loud, vicious roar penetrated his ears before Abyss climbed out of his confines.

He had been shrunk down to the size of a large Labrador Retriever when he had gone to the bank to collect the saliva needed for the Resurrection Potion—he had been snuck into Gringotts to do it, and he was glad that the trunk had finally been moved to the Manor.

It was so _tedious_ being snuck into the bank twice a week to care for Thorin and Abyss.

The small Hellhound stumbled as he stepped out of the trunk, and started towards him. As he approached, Voldemort couldn’t help but notice the dullness to his fur, or the unending sorrow in his eyes. Once Abyss reached him, he snuffled his body, like he had every time he had seen him in the last two months before he whimpered and climbed onto the chair. He carefully moved around his body and curled up behind him, and rested his head on his small, deformed torso.

Voldemort didn’t know how much longer Abyss would last before he started to go insane without his Human.

He had learned after he had created Abyss and then Thorin, that Creatures Born of Magic _always_ choose a Human to spend their days with, whether it was the one who had Created them—the one who was most similar to their own Magic—or another that they had Chosen—someone more _fit_ to be their Human. With the intense Bond, it kept their Unstable-Cores Stabilized, and it kept their Magic from eating away at their minds.

Eventually, if a Magic Born was left alone long enough, the process of their Creation would start to reverse, and they would once more become Conjurations, and then, like all conjured Magic, they would eventually disappear—commonly known as Dissolving for a Magic Born.

When the head that rested on his stomach nudged up and clipped his chin with a dry nose, he carefully reached out a hand and put it against the rough fur. As his magic trickled into the hound, he couldn’t help but wonder what _Hell_ the Creature had experienced since he had lost his body.

Only Abyss and Thorin were alive, as everything else he had placed in the Labyrinth all of those years ago had either died, or Dissolved.

The fact that it was just the two of them couldn’t have been good for his already declining mental state, nor Thorin’s—he honestly didn’t know which one the loss of his body was worse for. The Creature who hadn’t had his Human in forty years, or the Creature who had suddenly lost his Human.

The shrunken bird, who had refused to leave him after the first time he had gone to the bank, flew out of the trunk, and landed on the armrest near his head, and he automatically fed him Magic, just as he had done to the whimpering Hellhound.

Unlike the Hellhound, the Dire Raven hummed, closed his eyes, and leaned into his touch as his magic _poured_ into him.

“**I miss my Human**,” Abyss whined softly as tears filled his eyes.

Voldemort had become his Secondary Human when the Creation process had begun to reverse in the early sixties—Eden had given him _exponential_ amounts of Magic, more than he thought she had. Despite him being a Secondary Human, he couldn’t replace the feeling of pure _loss_ that the Hellhound experienced on a second-to-second basis. Despite him being a Secondary Human, _nothing_ could _ever_ replace the main Human to a Magic Born Creature until they Chose another, and Abyss _refused_ to.

When he considered the amount of Magic that Eden had given him, Voldemort didn’t think the beast _could_ Choose another, even if he wanted to.

Abyss licked his chin—and his heart _broke_.

“**When will my Human be back**?” he whimpered.

He ran a small hand along the Hellhound’s face as his own lips trembled, and his eyes watered. “I don’t know Abyss. I wish I did, because I miss her too. I miss her so _damn_ much.”

The Hellhound howled, and he cursed the fact that he had his complete sanity when the Hellhound was with him.

He’d rather be _insane_, than _sane_ and missing the love of his life.

She was only real, when he had Abyss.

She was only a memory, when he had Thorin—how the last three months _ached_ with Thorin by his side.

She was a figment of his imagination when he had neither.

He’d rather be insane, than be in mourning.

He ignored the itch in the back of his mind. The itch that said, _you’ve forgotten something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally written something that made me cry. Did any of you cry too?
> 
> My sister has kindly informed me that the Abyss I have written, and her Abyss, are two completely different creatures, and that the only thing they have in common is the appearance and the name. She's the best baby sister though. She's drawing a picture with Abyss and Eden (which you will get the link when it's finished and posted on the interwebs), and she's allowing me to share a picture of Abyss that she's drawn with you guys. Here's the link: https://www.deviantart.com/kageookamie/art/Abyss-Corrupted-Studios-832188442?ga_submit_new=10%3A1583008411 it is labeled as mature, just for gore, so, if you don't want to see that, you'll have to wait for the one with him and Eden.
> 
> Anyway, you finally got Voldy's POV! I know it's not the meeting that you all want, but, it's progress. For those who I answered certain questions about Voldy, I got mixed up. But, it's next chapter that you'll see the fullness of my answer. I was going to say brilliance, but, I'm not Tom. I don't have an ego that big. Or do I?
> 
> Anywho, love you all. I love reading your feedback and suggestions.


	29. 28 Alliances and Dark Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get to start seeing plot happen in Eden's time. YAY! (yes, I'm a little tired and mocking my own story)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this chapter should be split into two. The only reason it’s not is because I don’t want to write another Location Undisclosed. Although, we can all admit to know where most of those happen, am I right?

** _Monday, May 29, 1995_ **

** _ Ancient Runes Classroom_ **

“Class is dismissed!”

The once quiet room erupted into a cacophony of noise as most of the fourth-year students rushed to leave the room. Out of the 23 students who took the class, there were only five who lingered. One to talk to the teacher, and four others.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Theo demanded softly as Eden closed her bag.

“Yes, I’m sure. We need to speak with her. This is the only class other than Arithmancy that we have with her that Bunny and Weasel aren’t in either.”

“Potty’s going to kill us,” Draco stated drily as he too, finished packing his bag.

Ambrosia and Eden scoffed. “I’d like to see him try. Come on.” Her two male friends groaned before she silenced them with a look. “Join me if you want, but we’re doing this _with_ or _without_ the two of you.”

“No, no, we’re coming,” Draco started.

“We’re just complaining about it,” Theo finished. Draco emphatically nodded, and she felt like jinxing them both.

Instead of jinxing, she fondly rolled her eyes before she placed the experimental Cloaking Spell that Sirius and Remus created for her—they all assumed that Leif and the Weasel used the Map, and that’s what prevented her from having a decent conversation with Hermione.

The four made their way over to their target as she finished talking to the Ancient Runes professor. “Hermione!” she greeted kindly.

The girl flinched before she turned around with a bright smile that dimmed slightly when she saw her friends standing behind her. “Eden. Malfoy, Nott, Smith,” she greeted kindly, despite the obvious unease she was in.

Slytherins usually traveled in small packs like they currently were, and while most of the school thought it was so they could gang up on other students, most of the Ravenclaws—who were observant enough—and some of the Hufflepuffs—who had close friends or siblings in Slytherin—knew that it was for protection from those who wanted to do them harm.

“Can we speak with you?”

“Uhm . . . I don’t . . .”

“Please? I have something for you.” Hermione looked to Draco, Ambrosia, and Theo.

“Oh, don’t worry about them. Think of them as clingy puppy dogs,” Ambrosia said airily with a wave of her hand

The lion snorted and reluctantly smiled as Theo and Draco complained. “What if Leif and Ron come find us?”

Eden smiled. “They won’t. At least, not with how they usually do.” The girl didn’t seem surprised that she knew about the Map. “Please?”

She sighed. “I usually go to the library after class, so, we might want to start heading there if you’ve really found a way to block the four of you from being found.”

Eden grinned, nodded her head, and the four snakes dutifully followed the lion to her den.

** _Hogwarts Library_ **

Once the four were sequestered in a table near the Restricted Section, she smiled at Hermione. “Hello,” she said in a strange accent, that was less communication and more choking on her tongue.

She needed to work on it.

Hermione smiled softly, still a little nervous. “Hello, Eden, Malfoy, Nott, Smith,” she repeated.

“Please, call me Theo,” the dirty blonde insisted immediately. His cheeks were slightly red, and she, Draco, and Ambrosia exchanged identical looks.

She leaned over to the two of them. “Matchmaking?” she whispered softly.

Draco nodded. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Ambrosia squealed softly.

“Theo, then,” Hermione hesitantly said.

“I’d be pleased if you called me Draco, Granger,” her brother in all but blood insisted smoothly. Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, and an open mouth. “Eden likes you,” he answered the unasked question.

“Call me Ambrosia,” the final snake insisted.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and while Eden had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing, she understood _why_ she had that reaction. There were two Pureblood families who went by the name Smith at Hogwarts. One was descended from Hufflepuff, and the other was rumored to have descended from Ravenclaw.

The Smith family that Ambrosia came from—the one thought to have come from Ravenclaw (which was false)—frightened most people.

It was the coloring.

Everyone who was born of Smith blood, had deep black hair, pink eyes, pale white skin, and bright red lips.

When they were in first year, Ambrosia gathered all of the first years together to tell them that she had creature blood, and that she didn’t know what it was, and that if anyone asked her about it, she would hex them to the moon.

Maybe if Eden asked Ambrosia’s grandfather, he’d tell her . . .. Though, she’d have to corner him first, and that was difficult in _any_ time.

“Please, call me Hermione.” The softly spoken words brought her out of her mind.

The boys smiled and repeated her name, to which the lion blushed softly. Had Bunny and the Weasel really not treated her with basic kindness before . . . that basic _curtesy_ made her uncomfortable?

If she were still on speaking terms with her brother, she’d smack him and tell him to make their ancestors proud.

While upset with Hermione’s friends—and by consequence her brother—Eden was fairly pleased with the interaction and left the four to chat amongst themselves while she grabbed the items that she wanted to give Hermione.

She lifted her bag onto her lap and pulled out a shrunken book that she had sent—asked begged plead _requested_—Narcissa to five different stores on the Continent to find.

It was a _stupid_ expensive book, but it would be needed for her plans to work—especially if she wanted Hermione to focus on healing people and not creatures. She placed the large, _ancient_ tome that was currently the size of a muggle mass-market-paperback book—Sirius and Remus both had them—before she enlarged it to its original size—a foot thick, eighteen inches wide, and two feet long.

It was also stupid big.

She pulled out three other books, placed them on top of it, and Ambrosia put seven books by her grandfather on the pile, and together they pushed the books over to Hermione. “Here you are.”

“The small ones are by my grandfather. He’s the leading expert in healing Dark creatures, and Dark type witches and wizards,” Ambrosia explained.

Hermione nodded and quickly looked them over, excitement bubbling on her face as she squealed softly. She opened the first one, saw that it was signed, and covered her mouth as a laugh left her throat. “Healer Smith is one of my _idols_,” she gushed.

Ambrosia and Eden shared shocked faces. That was something they did not know.

After three minutes of gushing over the books by Healer Smith, she finally turned to the books that Eden had gotten her. As she looked at them, she read the titles softly under her breath. “_The Olde Ways, Keeping Magic Alive_ by Blaise Willow—I’ve heard of him, actually. He’s some kind of Pureblood Historian, right? _Neutral Healing Magic_ by Lilith Nox—” She squealed softly. “She’s my _idol_. The whole _reason_ that I want to be a healer!” she gushed. The snakes laughed, and she blushed brightly before she continued to read the titles. “_Healing Magic(k) of the Cosmos_ by Marse—I haven’t heard of him. Who is he?”

“He was an expert in a branch of Healing Magick that used Astrology and Solar Magick, who died about 500 years ago. He’s still one of the leading experts in that branch of Healing,” Eden explained.

Hermione nodded. “And last, but not least—” Definitely not the least. “_Healing Magic, Magick, and Magik_ by Utrix Lestat—” Hermione gasped before she looked at Eden accusingly. “Do you know how _rare_ and bloody _expensive_ this book is?” she hissed as she stroked over the cover and stared at the four snakes in horror.

Eden grinned and nodded. “If you consider the fact that Narcissa had to look in five very obscure places outside of Britain, and paid for it myself, yes. I’m aware of how valuable that book is. Really, it’s the only surviving First Edition, handwritten _by_ Utrix, and over 2,000 years old. It’s not a surprise.”

She gaped and looked like she wasn’t breathing anymore. Ambrosia stood and moved to the other side of the table and sat down next to Hermione and started to rub her back. “You spent _five million galleons_ to get a _book_? One of the rarest, if not the _rarest_, book in the world?” she demanded weakly.

Honestly, she looked like she was either about to explode, or faint. Would she do either when she learned of the true price?

“Well, between the five of us, I used the Potter Vaults, so, _technically_ my _parents_ spent seven and a half million galleons on the rarest book in the world,” she answered flippantly.

It wasn’t a surprise to Eden—or any scholar (or someone who knew their books)—that _Healing Magic, Magick, and Magik_ was that expensive, as books that had _anything_ to do with Magik were automatically expensive. Each full page was _at least_ 1,000 galleons; half pages were 500; and if it was only mentioned it was 250 galleons.

The price was due to the amount of research and _strength_ required to actually _use_ the Aether. And well . . . since a third of the book was information on Aether Magik, it wasn’t a surprise. Not only that, the pages of the book were about the same size as four put together when it was in its full size, which made each page about 4,000 galleons.

However, people couldn’t get away with just _mentioning_ the Aether. It had to be _useful_ information for it to be priced. If it was useless—which basically meant if it didn’t match up with Utrix’s information, or just didn’t make _sense_ compared to what Utrix wrote—or just had the words Magik or Aether and nothing else, it was priced the same way any other book would be, especially if it was a work of fiction.

All in all, if it was a book that had _something_ on Aether Magik, and it was _stupid_ expensive, there was a high probability that it was useful information.

Really, it baffled Eden that people would try to even _bother_ with the Aether when they weren’t strong enough.

But Utrix . . . _he_ was quite possibly one of the strongest wizards to have ever lived, and he was the leading expert on the Aether, even 2,000 years after his death. There were rumors that Merlin, Mordred, and Morgana had harnessed the Aether to protect Wizarding Britain from muggles, but it wasn’t truly _known_.

Hermione’s mouth flapped, and she looked shockingly like a fish out of water—for a moment, Eden wondered if her animagus would be a fish. “I can’t take this!” She saw the pain in the lion’s eyes, and heard it in her voice, at having to say that.

“You can,” Eden started softly, “and you will.”

She firmly shook her head. “No. I refuse.”

Eden looked to the heavens to Pray, and noticed Hermione watching her with extreme interest. “_Lady Eir, give me patience. Please. I ask this in exchange for a portion of my magic_,” she spoke in Latin. She lifted her hand, and a small ball of white light rose from her palm before it disappeared, and her tense muscles relaxed.

“What did you just do?”

“She Prayed to Lady Eir, the Olde goddess of Patience,” Ambrosia explained.

She looked to Hermione. “Why can’t you take the book?”

“Because I’m not worthy to even be looking at it.”

“Don’t you _dare_ say that,” Draco snarled. Hermione’s eyes widened, and Eden and Ambrosia crossed their arms over their chests before they leaned back to watch with identical smirks. “You are the most _brilliant_ witch of our age. You will make the _best_ healer in the entire _world_, Hermione.”

The lion scoffed. “Have you _met_, Eden?”

“You don’t understand,” Ambrosia said softly.

“Eden is Magically strong, wicked smart, and has _deadly_ reflexes,” Theo started to explain. “But, because she’s a Pure Dark Core, she can’t do much outside of Dark type and Neutral type Magic. She can cast _some_ Gray Magic, as long as it’s on the Darker end of the spectrum. But Light Magic? That _physically_ hurts her to cast. You, however? _You_ have the rare advantage of being a Neutral type Core. _You_ can cast _all_ types of Magic with ease—”

“You aren’t safe from the Dark Addiction if you cast too Dark of Magic though,” Eden quickly interjected. It was important that she know this _now_. She suffered the playful and frustrated nudge from her friend, and a shocking hex on the forehead from Ambrosia before he continued.

“—and because of that, you could heal any_one_ and any_thing_. Lord Smith, Ambrosia’s grandfather, he can only heal Dark Class because he’s a _Dark_ type Core. Hermione, with the four of us in your corner, you will go _far_ in _whatever_ career you decide. Further than if you only had Potter and Weasel-y. Weasley. You said you wanted to be a healer, so we’re trying to help you. If you decide that you want to become a politician instead, _we will help you_.”

Reluctantly, but they would.

“Why?”

“Because you saved me,” Eden said softly. “You helped me and made me go to Madam P when I would have just waited for the pain to go away or talk to Snakey-Snape about it.”

“Also,” Draco started, “you’re bloody smart.”

“And Eden genuinely likes you, and she doesn’t like a lot of people. Especially if she doesn’t know them that well.”

Hermione blushed and looked down before she stroked the cover. “I’m not strong enough for Aether Magik,” she quietly bemoaned.

Draco scoffed. “Name _one_ person other than Utrix and Merlin who _is_ strong enough to use Aether Magik.”

Something stirred in the air, and Eden tilted her head to the side as her left brow furrowed. “Do you guys feel that?” she asked softly. She straightened in her chair and looked around for a moment.

“Feel what?” Ambrosia questioned.

Her lips pulled down into a frown for a moment before she shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t know what it is.” The air stirred once more. “I can’t explain it.” She slumped back into her chair.

_Soon you will know, my child._

Fingers ran through her hair, and she quickly stood, knocked her chair over, turned around, and saw a fading royal blue nebula for a brief second before it was gone.

“Eden?”

She shook her head as she thought of the brilliant purple mist she had seen when she was talking with Snakey-Snape about the Draught of Starlight. “Either I’m going crazy, or someone just ran their fingers through my hair.”

She didn’t want to mention the nebula she could no longer see nor the voice that she could no longer hear.

“Someone probably just shot a spell at you. Perhaps one of the Devil Twins,” Theo soothed before he pulled her down by her wrist.

“Hey, they’re nice.”

“Says the girl who had her hair burned off after a prank gone wrong.”

“They gave me a really nice and expensive hair regrowth potion!”

“And they said sorry,” Ambrosia added on.

They all eventually to decide that someone had indeed cast a spell on her, and all agreed to disagree on who did it. She turned to Hermione. “If you won’t accept the book as a gift, as it’s _meant_ to be, would you read it if it was on loan?” she demanded softly.

The lion thought for a moment before she nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. The book is yours to read—_Circe_ woman, just to _read_ not _own_—calm down! The book is yours _to read_ for the next foreseeable future.”

“All of them?’

“Nope. The other three are yours, along with Lord Smith’s books. I will not let them be on _loan_, and Lord Smith signed them for you. Take them, or I’m spelling them to follow you around until you give in and claim them.”

“You’re crazy,” she laughed softly before she pulled the books closer to her.

Draco groaned in the back of his throat before he draped himself over Eden. “Trust me, dear, you don’t know the _half_ of it.” Hermione blushed.

Eden laughed. “It’s your fault for being my Enablers.”

“It’s _your_ fault for _making_ us your Enablers.”

She looked to Hermione. “Do you want to become an Enabler? The pay is quite good, I assure you.” She elbowed Draco and Theo when they snorted and kicked Ambrosia under the table when she snorted.

The lion laughed softly. “I don’t think I’d be a very good one.”

Eden flapped her hand at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn.”

The five laughed, and the girl reluctantly agreed after Eden started to send parchment animals to ‘attack’ her—really, they were just really cute things that made the girl coo and keep them.

The group of five did many things after that.

They continued to study, which unfortunately didn’t last long, as they were more interested in getting to know Hermione, and Hermione them.

After they gave up on studying, they started to make parchment animals, and even got into a competition to see who could make the cutest and most realistic—Ambrosia won most realistic, and Hermione won cutest when she made a bonobo monkey that would hug the nearest finger it could get to.

Theo tried to flirt, and even with the other three helping them, failed miserably as Hermione didn’t seem to realize that that was what he was doing—Eden _quickly_ began to suspect that Hermione wasn’t into him that way.

Her mouth had many sores from trying not to laugh.

After Theo gave up on flirting, they all decided that an army needed to be made, and so they all used far too much parchment, ink, and blood—paper cuts _sucked_—to make an army of animals that all wore various types of armor, and wielded various types of weapons—to Eden’s amusement, one of the monkeys that Draco made kept stealing quills and using them as swords against a serpent that Hermione made.

As they played and worked—kind of—they got to know one another, and were having quite possibly the best time, as they had each fallen out of their chairs many times laughing.

Eden was grateful that Tom had showed her how to place Privacy Wards.

It was amazing, until Bunny and the Weasel found them nearly three hours after class had finished.

“What are _you_ four doing here? You’re not supposed—” Weasel stopped speaking and turned a vibrant shade of red that clashed with his hair.

Eden tilted her head to the left as a smirk tugged on her lips. “Not supposed . . . to be here?” she finished for him. Weasel paled at her innocent tone. She pulled her wand and summoned a wooden box from her Trunk. She opened it, placed an extension charm on it, and waved her wand. The warrior animals that she had made started to march into the box. “Well, we were working on an Ancient Runes group project that the five of us were assigned to do together.” She summoned another box and levitated it over to Hermione after she placed an extension charm on it. “Here you are.”

“Oh yeah? What was it?” he demanded, obviously not believing the ‘nasty little snake’.

“We had to write Runes on parchment animals to imbue them with a semblance of life,” Hermione seamlessly answered as her own animals marched into her box.

Ambrosia, Draco, and Theo stood along with her when their animals were cleaned up as well. “We’ll try and find another time to work on it. See you later dear,” Ambrosia said as she inclined her head at the lion in respect. Eden grinned almost viciously when Theo and Draco kissed her hand in parting—like all Purebloods.

Eden moved around the table and pressed a kiss first to Hermione’s right cheek, and then to the left cheek—just like she would with any of her close friends. “Don’t let them kill your dreams,” she whispered just before she stood next to her friends once more.

She waved to a Weasel that sputtered, ignored Bunny, and left before he could hurt her more than he already had.

She missed the dangerous look exchanged between her brothers.

* * *

** _Tuesday, May 29, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“Today we’ll be doing something slightly different.”

Eden’s head was still slightly fuzzy from their morning kiss, so it took a moment for his words to process, but when they did, she perked up. “I can play with Abyss?” she asked while she bounced on the balls of her feet.

Tom laughed and fondly rolled his eyes. “Kind of. You’re going to be reading about five Curses that I have chosen, and then you’re going to practice in the Arena until you able to successfully cast each five times in a row, and then you’re going to go into the Labyrinth where you and Abyss are going to practice against the creatures in there.”

Her head tilted to the side. “Are you sure? I remember quite clearly that you said I was never allowed in there without you.”

He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “That was before Abyss Claimed you. Do you remember what I told you about a Magic Born’s Human?”

She nodded. “Yes. The official name is Sacrificial Human because they willingly Sacrifice a portion of their magic to keep the Magic Born alive and sane.”

He curled his arm around the back of her neck and pulled her close. Her chin rested on his chest as she looked up at him. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Correct. You’re Abyss’ Sacrificial Human.”

“Really?”

That made so much more sense now. Ever since she met him on Sunday, she had been in the Trunk with him and Tom, and he would barely let Tom touch her.

“Yes, and as such, he will _die_ before he will let anything harm you.” His grip tightened on her, and she leaned into his touch and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s the only reason that you’re going to be going in there without me,” he muttered petulantly.

Eden snickered while he glanced at his watch behind her head. He cursed under his breath and pulled away from her. He waved his hand and five thick tomes landed on the coffee table. “I’ve marked the pages that you’ll need to read. I’m so sorry, love. I have to go.”

He ran to the door, and she chased after him. She grabbed his hand and cut off his reluctant protests with a quick kiss. “I love you. Sorry I was so late today.”

He grinned and softly kissed her. “It’s fine.” He stroked her cheek. “I love you, too.”

He left, and once she heard the portrait to the Head Dorms shut, slumped and rubbed at her aching stomach. She pulled her hand away and cursed when she saw it was covered in a thin layer of blood. She rolled her shirt up and tucked it into the fabric of her sports bra before she rolled the waistband of her yoga pants down until they rested low on her pelvis, and the small Adonis belt she had developed showed.

She took a deep breath and held her right hand out, and a small white flame appeared on the tip of her pointer finger. She curled the rest of her fingers before she held the small flame to the long gash that went from just below her right bottom rib, across her bellybutton, and to the top of her iliac crest—the spot just before the Adonis belt started.

The room was soon filled with the stench of burning flesh as she used the Cure of Fire to cauterize the wound. Once she got it to the point that she was able to heal it to—she had just learned the Cure, and wasn’t very good at it—she untucked her shirt, and reached into her pearl bag and pulled out a pain relief cream that smelled like sweet lemons had a baby with lightning.

Once the throbbing agony in her stomach was reduced to a dull ache, she sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and laid the books out in front of her.

_Curses of Emotions_, _Curses of the Sky_, _Curses of the Dead_, _Curses of the Seasons_, and _Curses of the Body_ were all thick tomes. All were written by Bartholomew Ferlet, and Dark Magic _oozed_ from the thick, luxurious pages.

She sighed before she pulled the first book towards her and opened it to the strip of metal that acted as a bookmark.

When her eyes landed on what it was, she grinned. It was fairly plain, just a metal strip, but embossed into the inch-wide strip of metal in Tom’s handwriting was _I love you, Eden_. A silly grin crossed her face, as it made the prospect of reading about soul-destroying Curses much easier to stomach.

She slipped the metal into her pearl bag, and decided that if Tom cared about it, he shouldn’t have done it.

The first Curse she read about was called the Terror Bane. As she read, she hummed in the back of her throat.

Perhaps this task wouldn’t be as bad as she thought it would be.

The gist of the Curse was that it scared someone. Being able to scare someone to death seemed like it could be useful, especially since she could choose how badly she scared someone—whether that was just piss-your-pants scared, or _actually_ scare someone to death. She read over the instructions a few more times—until she was sure that she had them memorized—before she moved on to the next.

The Hex of Midnight was similar to the blinding jinx that she used on Krum—bastard (she still hadn’t gotten over the fact that he Cursed her)—during the Second Task, only instead of it being caused by a bright light that had absolutely no concept of personal space, it caused the victim to suddenly see nothing. Unlike the jinx however, it lasted until the counter, the Cure of the Sun, was cast. There was, however, the slight drawback that there was a _high_ chance of death with the Cure of the Sun.

When she had the instructions memorized, she moved on to the next book.

The Ghost Curse made her think that that could be one of the leading causes of ghosts. The Curse extracted someone’s spirit from their body for 24 hours, and the body went into a deep sleep, similar to that of a coma. If the body was killed while the spirit was off exploring—or whatever it is one _does_ while in spirit-form—the person was turned into a ghost until the end of time.

The Winter Night Curse was pretty self-explanatory in the name. It caused the effects of being outside in the middle of the night in the dead of winter. In small bursts, it caused varying levels of frostbite, but, if applied for too long, the victim would freeze to death. It was similar to the Terror Bane, and the Cruciatus in that it had to be actively cast, and you needed to concentrate on the amount of power put into the spell.

The last Curse, the Mind Curse, was a hard _nope_ as it put someone into a coma.

After she finished reading and was sure that she remembered how to cast all of the spells, entered the trunk.

** _Compartment 1—Training Arena_ **

“Really?” she demanded after the lid closed, and just before she slid down the railing,

Logic had made her lazy.

Or was it laziness that made her logical?

“I hate whenever you do that,” he muttered once she safely made it to the bottom. “What are you so upset about? You were happy before I left for class.”

She fondly rolled her eyes. “It’s amazing what reading about Curses can do to a person,” she cheerfully stated as she started towards the dummies.

“Which one upset you?”

He was genuinely confused. She paused and laughed for a moment before she continued on. “The Mind Curse.” She stopped in front of a dummy, and it stepped towards her. She had to swat Fred away, who had decided it was an _amazing_ idea to be _extra_ vigilant and hover in front of her face.

See?

It was in love with her.

“What about it?” She scowled at the dummy, and he sighed. “Fine. Why does it bother you so much? It doesn’t put them into a Magical Coma.”

“You don’t know that. They didn’t decide what classified a Magical Coma until 19—and there’s no way to reverse it.” She pinched herself at the fact that she nearly revealed that it hadn’t been classified until the early 80’s.

He sighed—he most likely noticed the save of the slip. “Do you have issues with any of the others?”

“No. It’s just the irreversible coma that I struggle with. I’m not trying to kill my competitors. While I will admit, that were I to be in real danger, the Mind Curse _could_ be useful, I don’t want to risk getting thrown in Azkaban because I cast an illegal, irreversible spell.”

“You’re right. I apologize. From now on, I will only give you spells that won’t be easily Traced back to you.”

“Thank you, love.”

She cast a silent concealment charm on her stomach and pulled her shirt off. She stuffed it into her bag and flinched when Tom started to choke. “What’s wrong?”

“Your clothing.”

“I always wear this. What’s wrong with it?”

She looked down and saw that she had forgotten to roll the waistband back up, and he was seeing far more skin than he was used to—even her swimsuits had covered more of her stomach than what was currently being shown. “Oh. Sorry.” She started to unroll it and stopped when he protested. “What?”

“Don’t. It’s fine. If you’re more comfortable like that, leave it,” his voice was deep and husky and created goosebumps on her legs and arms.

She really was, to be honest. It was nice to not have the fabric rub against the once-cut-now-burn. “Are _you_ okay with it? I know you have different standards than I do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, in your time it’s common for girls to not show a lot of skin, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he started hesitantly.

“Well, in my time, this is very common, and not really considered inappropriate unless I’m in the middle of the great hall.” He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “So, shall we get started?”

“Yes.”

An hour later, and 182 casts—which consisted of 62 successes (and that was just barely meeting the requirement of being able to successfully cast each five times in a row)—she was flying out of the trunk to practice on something other than a dummy.

** _Compartment 10—Labyrinth_ **

“**Eden**!”

She grinned and hopped onto the railing and was caught 30 feet from the ground when Abyss jumped and picked her up in his mouth. How he was able to grab her by the skin-tight t-strap of her sports bra, and _not_ injure her, she didn’t know, but was infinitely impressed.

“Abyss!” she cooed excitedly. She coated her hand in Raw Magic before she ran it along his fur. He laid on the ground, and she was released, and she immediately turned around and hugged his face.

“**How was school, little one**?” He nuzzled her stomach with his very wet nose, and eyes narrowed when she whimpered when he bumped the wound on her stomach. She put her hand on his muzzle and pushed some magic into him. He relaxed, scented nearly her entire body when he rubbed the side of his face against her, and then licked her face with his too-large tongue.

She laughed and wiped at her dripping face; clear saliva stuck to her arms before Tom banished it. “Thanks, love. It was good, mostly. I got cornered by my brother’s best friend and a couple other students on my way to dinner, but, other than that I’m okay. How are you?”

“**Were you hurt**?” he demanded with a growl that shook the tall, stone walls.

“Not by them, no. I was able to defend myself against them well enough.” She scratched the fur between his eyes and tunneled more magic into him in an attempt to get him to not think about her wording.

She shouldn’t have even tried.

“**Is that why you are wearing a concealment charm**?”

“H-How did you know about that?”

“**I smelled it. How were you injured**?”

“Yes love, how?” The tone was thick and acerbic, and she winced at Tom knowing. “Remove the charm, or I will.”

She groaned in pain when Abyss nudged her stomach with his nose—if it wasn’t for the sticking charms or balancing spells, she would have fallen over. She dropped the concealment charm, and spoke over Abyss’ low, guttural growl.

“One of the spells I used to defend myself backfired and hit me instead of them. It’s why I was so late. Dragon, Sunshine, and Snakey-Snape had to heal me. It took them about five hours alternating between _Medela Aer_, the Cure of Obsidian, and the Cure of Glass. It looks like this because I used the Cure of Fire on it right after you left.”

Abyss roared, and black flesh-eating saliva ate at the walls above her head—apparently it was _more_ than flesh-eating (it also appeared that he could turn the deadly saliva on and off at will). He stood over her, as if that would protect her from something that wouldn’t happen for another fifty years.

She understood why he—and a cussing Tom—were both upset. The Cure of Glass was only used when someone was covered in so many lacerations, there was almost no undamaged skin. It was similar to the Cure of Obsidian, where it healed them completely—the Cure of Obsidian was used for broken bones and less extreme amounts of lacerations—but it was like _Medela Aer_ in that no scars were left. There would be phantom pains, but other than that, it would almost be like the cuts had never happened. The reason she still had a gash on her stomach was because the three had Drained themselves to the point they couldn’t hold their wands anymore.

That was the problem with being a Pure Dark Core—it honestly had more drawbacks than it did advantages. The only healing spells that truly were effective used so much magic that it was almost dangerous to be healed by someone who wasn’t as strong as the person injured was. She would have told them to leave it and would have waited for Tom if she wouldn’t have potentially bled out waiting on Dark blood-replenishers to be made so she _could_ wait for Tom.

She’d also have to explain Tom . . ..

“How did that happen?” She barely heard the newly composed Tom over the violent roaring of Abyss.

“A few windows shattered on top of the backfired spell. It was almost like it was Lash-Back, but considering I’m still alive . . .”

She didn’t hear his response, as Abyss went on another spitting rampage. She wrapped her arms around a thick leg, and instead of feeding the Hellhound a small bit of magic like usual, she pushed a good portion of her Core into him.

His butt immediately fell to the ground and he gently nudged her out from under him before he laid down and nosed at her until she was nestled between his leg and neck as he purred contentedly. She relaxed against him and closed her eyes as she tried to will herself to stop shaking.

“Love, you need to unBind your Core,” Tom insisted, “it’s the only way that you’re going to be able to continue. You gave Abyss a little too much with it Bound the way that you do.”

“But, my roommates—”

“Will be fine. You’re fairly calm right now. Do it, love.”

Abyss groaned and nuzzled her, apparently eager to feel what she had hidden. She sighed at the insistent and annoying alpha-males before she did as demanded. “**My Human**,” Abyss growled once her entire Core was flowing free around them. The air around them was thick with her magic and was heavy with the scent of ozone. Abyss started to snuffle and curled closer to her.

“You have three fourths left, love.”

She nodded her head, and she and Abyss stayed cuddling as she Adjusted to her Core once more, and Abyss basked in its strength. She wiped away five Magical Tears before they stopped.

About ten minutes after she unBound her Core, Abyss insisted that she climb on top of him. She stood and stepped back five steps before she ran and jumped on top of him. He started to stand, and she was grateful for it, because falling ten feet would have been painful—she still needed to work on that particular Battle Magick Spell—even if she would be landing on a fluffy Hellhound.

Not that Abyss was fat.

He was very lean.

Granted . . . it still kind of hurt landing on him. The air was knocked out of her before she started to laugh. Once she had her composure back, she sat on him cross-legged between two of his six spinal horns, and at his command, had a firm grip on his soft fur before he started to stroll through the maze—for some reason, he always insisted that she hold onto his fur instead of one of his ten horns.

“I’m dropping the Attraction Spell.”

“Alright.”

“**Your Mate has informed me that we will be practicing new spells today**,” the Hell Class Creatures casually started.

“Yes.” She dearly hoped that she wasn’t blushing, but by the way her face burned, she assumed that she was.

“**You can cast them**?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

He inclined his large head and turned right when they reached an intersection. “**I will allow no harm to come to you, as long as I am with you**.”

She leaned forward and kissed his head, and he purred while Tom grumbled. “You better not steal my witch, Abyss.”

“**She is my Human; thus, she is mine**.”

“I _made_ you!” he sputtered.

“**And I Chose her**.”

She was eternally amused. One was pissed, the other was as cool as a cucumber. “Abyss—” It was the tone of voice that spelt death to whomever it was directed towards.

Abyss crouch low and growled, and she had no doubt, that had Tom been there, he’d be Very Dead. “**She. Is. _Mine_**!” he snarled.

“I can be shared!” she quickly cut in before anything could be said between the two.

The two grumbled before they both reluctantly agreed to share her. Merlin, they were insane. She was the _only_ one who actually had the _right_ to be upset over being treated as if she were a mere _object_.

Although . . . when she considered Tom’s magpie tendencies . . . and the fact that he _Created_ Abyss . . .. It was understandable. Unfortunately.

But still.

The duo walked for a few more minutes before they came upon something that confused the absolute _hell_ out of her. “What is that?”

“**A War Flamingo**.”

She bit her lips as she tried to keep from laughing. “Pardon?” she squeaked.

“**It is a War Class Creature. They are typically used as a mount when in a war setting due to their size and some of their . . . abilities**.”

She nodded as she looked down at the creature whose body was about the same height as a horse’s head—and then its neck—and then its head—which made it three feet shorter than Abyss was tall—excluding his horns. “I can see why.”

The bird stood on one leg—as was typical of a flamingo—and stared right at them. Its eyes were bright red and had no pupil. A thought occurred to her as she tore her gaze away from the dull, yet intelligent orbs. “Do War Class Creatures have their own language?”

“**Yes, the War Language. I imagine it would be as unpleasant for you to acquire as the Dire Language**.” She shivered at the memory, and he growled. She ran a magic-coated hand along his fur, and he calmed near immediately.

The Flamingo stared at her and Abyss for a moment longer, before the foot that was tucked came down, and the ground around them shook. Abyss easily readjusted his stance, as if the sudden quaking didn’t bother him, and she tightened her grip on his fur as her legs fell to either side of him to better grip—kind of.

He was too wide, and she too small for it to be called astride, so it was more like she was just doing the center splits on a fuzzy surface that curved. “I’m fine,” she answered his growl.

“Love, cast one of the spells. It doesn’t matter which. If it dies, it’ll just disappear, and I’ll create a new one after classes let out for the day.”

She nodded her head, tightened her grip on her holly wand, and pointed it at the bird. It opened its mouth as she started to cast the spell, and she was forced to stop when her ears started to ring. She covered them with her forearms as she shook her head, and when she uncovered them, ignored the hot liquid that seeped down her neck.

She shook her head once more and started to cast a different spell than the one she had originally planned to cast. The ringing in her ears got louder, and she continued to cast, despite the blood that oozed down the sides of her neck due to the screeching that echoed violently around the Labyrinth.

A bright, white light left the tip of her wand, hit the bird, and it dissolved—much to her confusion. “Why’d it do that?” she asked after a moment.

Her ears still bled, but they didn’t ring any longer.

“Because it’s Conjured, it doesn’t have a spirit to leave the body,” Tom explained.

“Wait—does that mean Abyss and Thorin don’t have spirits?”

“**We do, as we are real**.”

She relaxed, and her sudden panic faded. “Good.”

Abyss huffed and purred, and she got the distinct impression that he was both very pleased, and extremely amused. “**Are you ready to continue**?”

She nodded once more, and the duo continued to walk and talk until they came upon a creature that made her want to hit Tom, and then hit her face against a wall. “Really?” she demanded in a deadpan tone.

“Really.”

She rolled her eyes at the smug man, and stared at the hydra, and began to debate which spell would be best to use. “**Might I offer a suggestion**?”

“Of course.”

“**I suggest _not_ cutting off its heads**,” he commented somewhat sheepishly.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” she commented with a smirk that tugged at her lips, and slightly narrowed eyes as she thought and planned while she stroked his fur.

He made a strange sound, almost like a growling whimper. “**That is because I do. You see, Eden, it originally only had _three_ heads**.”

She snorted. “And now it has—” she quickly counted “—eleven heads.” She laughed long and loud. “What did you _do_, Abyss?”

“**It encroached upon my sleeping space. I _had_ to exert my dominance**,” he answered in a haughty voice that told her _exactly_ who created him—yet again, more proof that Tom was a sociopath, and that their children would most likely be sociopaths as well. “**It didn’t go as planned, however**.”

Eden snorted, and covered her mouth with both hands to hide her laughter from the suddenly Very Insulted Hellhound underneath her. Her laughter quickly turned to a scream when she slipped off of Abyss when he jumped to the side to dodge the hydra that had suddenly lunged at them. Her scream was cut off as she landed against his right neck horn and had the breath knocked out of her, which was knocked out again when she landed on the floor.

“Eden?”

“I’m fine,” she scowled.

She rolled to the side when a head tried to eat her and pushed her hands into the floor. She took a deep breath and tried to center herself, and ignore the three heads that lunged for her, and the growls and whimpers of Abyss, and the frantic shouts of Tom telling her to move.

Her eyes snapped open, and a sickly green glow filled the space, and she launched herself high into the air. Her hair brushed the ceiling, and as she fell, long necks with snapping teeth reached for her. She began to cast a spell, and a dark blue light left her wand, hit the ninth head, and the hydra fell limp.

She was caught in a slimy mouth and was almost swallowed before she was dropped on the ground and snuffled by Abyss while he whimpered. She coated her fingers in Raw Magic and rubbed it along one of the tears in his face. “Abyss, I’m fine.”

He whimpered again before he curled around her. “**You were injured because of me. I am regretful for what I have done**.”

Eden sighed and pushed more magic into him—it seemed to be the only way to get him to calm down. “Abyss, it’s my fault because I wasn’t holding onto you. Please don’t feel guilty.”

The beast howled and snuffled her again. “Love, he’s just going to beat himself up about this for a while. It might just be best to move onto the next spell without waiting for him to cheer up.”

She frowned before she nodded her head and fought her way out of Abyss’ comforting—soothing warming enveloping _smothering_—embrace. The moment she did so, she tensed and quickly shot a white spell from her wand, and the red and gold serpent turned to a cube of ice.

“Hey! The book never said _anything_ about _ice cubes_!” she groaned, “besides, I was aiming for mild frostbite, not _ice cube_. What the bloody hell happened?”

Tom laughed too hard to answer.

“**You overpowered the spell**,” Abyss explained, still very upset. He nudged her, and she giggled softly before she climbed onto his back.

The duo explored—well, _wandered_—for twenty more minutes, and as they did so, she practiced the three spells she had already cast on the other creatures. She practiced on not overpowering them, and so far, had failed.

Miserably.

When they came across the conjured basilisk, she decided to try one of the remaining two spells—she also chose to try and ignore the similarity to Azteca. A pitch-black spell left the tip of her wand, and collided with the basilisk, and it dissolved into nothing. “Why—did I overpower it again?”

“No, you didn’t overpower it. The Hex of Midnight _can’t_ be overpowered,” Tom started, “a basilisk can naturally heal most damage done to its eyes, but when its sight is suddenly taken away like that, they die because it’s something that they can’t naturally heal.”

“Ahh . . . okay. Note to self, don’t hit Azteca with the Hex of Midnight.” Tom laughed, and she sat silent on top of Abyss for a few minutes as she thought the implications of the Curse over before she cast _tempus_, and saw she had about fifteen minutes before she’d wake up.

Sadly, it didn’t matter that she had gotten there nearly an hour late, she still needed to wake up at five to keep up appearances. “Do you have anything in here that would be interesting to cast the Terror Bane on?”

“**Nightmare**,” Abyss immediately answered.

She snorted. “That could be _very_ entertaining.”

“**Indeed**.”

Before Tom could voice his protests—because _surely_ he’d have _some_—she and Abyss were on top of the Labyrinth as they searched for the fiery black horse. Once they found it, she climbed on top of Abyss’ head and knelt, and braced herself on one of his horns with her left hand.

She pointed her wand, and shot the spell at the demon, and made sure to barely put any effort into it so she could see what a small ‘dose’ looked like.

As soon as the dark blue spell collided with the creature, the beast fell onto its side and curled into itself as heartbreaking shrieks left its huffing lips. She quickly canceled the spell and wiped at her eyes, and the Nightmare huffed, looked right into her eyes, before it stumbled to its feet and ran away.

“Does anyone else’s heart hurt?” she asked after a minute.

“Nope,” Tom said softly.

“**While I can see as to why that would upset you, my Human, it was not something that upset me**.”

She nodded her head and tried to shove the memory into the back of her mind. She didn’t think that she’d be using that spell again, anytime soon.

She yawned, and Abyss laid down and she slid off of his head, and he curled around her, and she fell asleep between his paws as he snuffled her.

* * *

** _Tuesday, May 30, 1995_ **

** _ Potion’s Classroom_ **

“Miss Potter, stay behind.”

Eden tilted her head to the side and shrugged when her friends sent her concerned looks and waited for the other students to filter out of the room. She smiled at a worried Hermione and waved her off. Once the room was empty, she stood and moved to stand in front of Snakey-Snape’s desk.

“Yessims?”

The man fondly rolled his eyes before he flicked his wand, and the door closed while extremely strong privacy wards were erected around the room. An opaque dome appeared around them and, considering the fact that she could no longer hear the faint bubbling from Weasel’s exploded potion, she assumed that it was another strong silencing ward.

“I need to speak with you.”

Her left brow furrowed. “If it’s about my Core, I stopped Locking it. I’ve been meditating every morning with Siri and—”

“You are messing with _very_ dangerous spells, Eden.”

She froze. “What do you mean?” Fear filled her. “How can you tell?” she hissed, “I’ve been Clearing my wand!”

“Calm yourself, child. Dark Magic leaves a mark, of sorts, on those who practice it. Even those with Dark type Cores.”

Her brows furrowed. “What type of mark?” She started to look at her hands and arms.

“Not that kind of mark, Eden. The mark that it leaves just gives off a certain feeling. It makes those around you intuitively feel that you are more powerful. Now, I know that for right now, you can blame it on the Forced Expansion of your Core, but, after that outburst a few weeks ago, everyone is expecting it to be settled down within the next week or two, and you’ll go back to feeling like a normal student again.”

“Well . . . what should I do about it?”

“I heard from a certain mangy mutt that you and _it_ practice for an hour Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays in the mornings, and five hours on Saturdays, and two hours on Sundays. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, I’ll be training you to Veil your Core. I’ve already cleared it with the bane of my existence.”

She giggled at the fondness in his voice. “I thought that was me.”

“No. Your mangy mutt of a godfather has won title that after he got me drunk last week and took Remus and I to a strip club.”

Eden snorted, and wiped at her face. “Did you have fun?”

He glared at her. “No. I did _not_ have fun.”

“I’m surprised that you let Sirius do that. He’s typically a pushover.”

“I was drunk. Now, about the Veiling of your Core—”

“What does that mean? Is it similar to Masking something?”

“Yes. It’s very difficult, but I have faith that you will be able to learn it quickly. I suggest you use this—” He handed her a slip of parchment with permission to use the Restricted Section “—to research Core Veils, and how to do it.”

She nodded and tucked the parchment into her pocket. “Thanks for the warning, Snakey-Snape.”

He inclined his head and opened his arms for a hug. She quickly ran to him and sighed contentedly when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Of course, my little princess.”

* * *

** _Thursday, June 1, 1995_ **

** _ Room of Requirement_ **

“The first thing that you need to do in order to Veil your Core, is to unBind your Core.”

Eden breathed deeply as she tried to nip the apprehension in the bud and nodded her head before she did as she was told. Once her Core was completely free of its tight confines, she looked to the ground and shuffled her feet. Partly to hide the Magical Tears that still formed after she unBound it, fear, and to hide the shaking that having her magic unBound caused. Her hair fluttered around her head just as her heart fluttered around her chest.

She hoped that _tata_ wouldn’t think her strange.

She hoped that he wouldn’t think her _magic_—who she _was_ deep inside—strange.

“What’s wrong?”

She bit her lips, and normal tears spilled out of her eyes. “I’m a _freak_,” she croaked.

“Why would you say that?” he demanded. His words were thick with pain; he placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her slightly.

“Because of how big my Core is.”

It didn’t matter how many times she compared herself to Tom. It didn’t matter that even though her Core was _stupid_ large, his was almost triple the size of hers.

What did matter, however, was what people in _her_ time thought. She was aware that her Core was much, _much_ larger than those in her year, and even those in fifth, and quite possibly even _sixth_ year. She was also aware that _Dumbles_ was aware of the true size of her Core, as evident by the fact that he would randomly show up and ask her about her studies while he ‘inconspicuously’ Scanned her Core.

She was pulled out of her mind when Snakey-Snape spoke and shook her again. “Eden, your Core is _beautiful_, it is _perfect_ for _you_,” he avowed. She felt his familiar—recognizable tranquilizing soothing _comforting_—magic prod at her own a few times, from every direction. Her body became so taut that she was sure she would snap any moment. “I will admit, however, that it is . . . _larger_ than I had originally anticipated. Poppy said it grew by two-fifths, right?”

She nodded. “Like I said, I’m a—” Before she could finish insulting herself, a metal gag wrapped tightly around her mouth and lower part of her head.

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence.” She glared at him, and her magic started to solidify into a type of sharp projectile behind him against her will. “I have only seen _one_ other Core as strong as yours. You are _not_ a freak, Eden. You are _special_. So, _so_ special.”

The projectile behind her _tata_ vanished, and her magic Banished the muzzle, and her hair started to float threateningly around her head, and her heels lifted off of the ground. “Who?” she snarled, “who has a Core like mine that doesn’t make me _freakish_? Who else is a _freak_?” she demanded harshly.

She was completely unaware of the way her magic hummed threateningly in the air, the way her eyes glowed, and the way her hair started to wrap around her neck, as if it was about to choke her as her feet came completely off of the ground.

Snakey-Snape remained unfazed, and just stared at her as he calmly, almost . . . _reverently_ answered. “The Dark Lord.”

Everything paused, and the room was silent as she stared at him, with her magic waiting for the next shoe to drop. She still hovered a few inches off of the ground, her hair still wrapped around her neck, and her eyes still glowed, but her magic was as still as a lake in the winter.

“What?”

“Yes. Your Core is nearly the same size as his—_was_.” Her eyes narrowed, and before she could question him on the slip, or the sudden stroking of his left arm, he continued. “We don’t have much time. We need to work on your Core.” Her magic released her, and she landed lightly on the ground and her hair went back to floating serenely around her head. “Now that your Core is unBound, I want you to try and bring forth something called Raw Magic. What you do is—” he cut off with a choked gasp when she brought forth a ball of Raw Magic, roughly the size of a large pumpkin. “How—”

She shook her head as she smiled grimly. “Don’t ask.”

It was all Tom’s fault.

He stared at her for a moment longer before he reluctantly nodded. “Do you know what a Dome Shield is?”

“Yes.” She conjured one, and he breathed deeply.

“This will be easier than I anticipated,” he hummed softly. “Basically, in order to Veil your Core, all you have to do, is put two Dome Shields around it, and that will hide the Stain of whatever Magic you’re practicing, be it Dark Magic, or Black Magick.”

“Okay.”

For the next hour, they continued to practice, and she still hadn’t been able to Veil her Core. Surprisingly, for as similar as it was to the way that she chose to Lock her Core away with, it wasn’t the same at all. It was the same concept, _nearly_ the same end goal, but it was the completely different fulfilment of the middle portion that made it so much more difficult.

Oh well.

She still had two more weeks before severe questions would be raised. Perhaps Tom would be able and willing to help her.

(he would)

** _Riddle Manor_ **

**NOAH POTTER: A DARK LADY IN THE MAKING?**

Voldemort didn’t get much further than the headline of the newspaper, as right underneath it was a picture of the once babe-now-girl who had defeated him with acidic tears.

A pressure built in his head.

“Eden,” he whispered softly.

_Noah—_

_Yes, Tom?_

_What?_

_I’m sorry, say that again?_

_I was talking to him. His name is Noah. Noah Smith. Why? Do you know him?_

_No. No, sorry._

He should have figured it out. It was so _obvious_ now. He had said her name when he was _fifteen_ years old—granted he had to erase Noah’s mind since he hadn’t been introduced to Eden at that point.

His head began to pound as a bony hand reached out and stroked the face of the girl who stood squished between two other children her age. The trio laughed, and shoved each other around, and it appeared they were on the shore of the Black Lake, before a girl who looked surprisingly like Noah Smith jumped onto Eden’s back, even though she was much taller than the raven-haired girl.

The loop reset with . . . Ambrosia, was her name, wasn’t it?—slipping off of Eden’s back before she ducked out of frame. His eyes selfishly drunk in the face of the girl he had loved for over fifty years. The top three buttons of her shirt were undone, and her hair was in a high ponytail with long wisps of hair that framed her face. Her face was lit up with a smile so bright, his heart _burned_.

His eyes flickered to the words underneath the picture.

_Pansy L. Parkinson (left) Noah E. Potter (center) Draco A. Malfoy (right) Ambrosia T. Smith (back) enjoy a rare, nice day at the Black Lake at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in early March_

The _names_ even made sense.

How had he not noticed?

Something in his head snapped.

**NOAH POTTER: ALMOST DIED IN TASK!**

_No!_

His Eden.

**NOAH POTTER: IN MAGICAL COMA**

_No!_

His love.

** _What had he done?_ **

Anguish ate at him, and mourning howls, and desperate shrieks filled the small, dilapidated room.

The girl—Noah—first year—she _wasn’t_ a dream.

**NOAH POTTER: CHILD ABUSE VICTIM?**

_Why? No! No!_

She was _real_.

**NOAH POTTER: THE TRUTH!**

_Erase it!_

She was _alive_.

**NOAH POTTER: HOGWARTS HOUSE LOVE FOR THE UNEXPECTED CHAMPION**

_No!_

The name—her friends called—her—not his imagination.

**NOAH POTTER: AWAKE FROM MAGICAL COMA!**

_Wormtail! Erase it!_

His heart.

**NOAH POTTER: ALMOST DIED IN TASK! AGAIN!**

_Why, why, my Eden, why, WHY!?_

His mind.

**His _soul_**.

His Eden.

No. No!

Wailing moans echoed around the abandoned property as he let his sorrow out for the entire world to hear.

The memories . . . every single time he had figured out that Noah Potter was his lovely Eden, raced around in his head, and the guilt and despair ate at him once more. He was the reason she went through all of that pain.

No. No. No. No.

**What had he done?**

“No!” he screamed. The trunk vibrated as Thorin and Abyss tried to leave their confines, and he did _nothing_ to free them.

He hadn’t done anything to free them the other times either.

_He_ was—the reason—that she had all of those—scars on her—beautiful body.

_He_ was—the _reason_—that her mother—hit her.

**_He_**_ was the **reason** her **life** was **Hell**_.

No. No. No. No. No! NO!

He couldn’t _take it_ anymore—the guilt—the pain—the love—the hate—

“Wormtail!” Hurried footsteps climbed rickety stairs, and still he stared at the newspaper in his small hands. “Not my Eden. **My sweet _Eden_. My love, my _life_, my _soul_**.”

Nagini wrapped around him and stared at the newspaper in his hands. She flicked her tongue out. “**Is this the girl that Abyss speaks so highly of**?”

“**Yes**,” he moaned to his future Horcrux. He had tried to turn her into one before September but had quickly figured out that the homunculus form couldn’t handle the magic needed for the Ritual.

“**She is beautiful**.”

“**The most beautiful woman I ever met. In mind, body, and soul**.”

The door creaked open. “M-M-Master?”

“Burn it! Erase it!” He threw the newspaper away from him and ignored Nagini’s pleas that he stop. “Now. All of it.”

“Again, my L-Lord?”

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “The last hour. _Banish_ it from my mind. _Now_, Wormtail.” His servant said nothing about the desperation that colored his tone.

He hadn’t asked since the third time he had him erase his mind.

Voldemort closed his eyes, and when he opened them once more, he wondered why Abyss and Thorin were attempting to break out of the trunk and wondered where his precious Nagini had come from.

He only vaguely recognized the scent of ash upon the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it! Also, I fully expect most of you to stop reading after that last little bit.
> 
> I wanted to let you all know, that I will not be going back to my weekly update schedule until I have most, if not ALL of the rough draft for the second part done. I will try and update at least once a month, and it will only be when I have the time and desire to do so. (Your comments help tremendously when it comes to getting the desire to write and post again).
> 
> Anyway, with all of the COVID-19 stuff going on, stay safe, healthy, and happy. I know a lot of us are affected by it and my thoughts are with all of you who have been affected.


	30. 29 The Knights of Walpurgis

** _Friday, June 1, 1995_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“Come, we don’t have much time.”

Before Eden could even open her eyes, or greet him, Tom had her by the left wrist, and pulled her out of his room. She quickly activated her Ring and jumped onto his back. He easily caught her and helped her adjust herself so he could carry her without it looking funny for those who were unaware of her presence—a lot of sticking charms were used.

“What’s going on?” she whispered in his ear.

He shivered and faltered slightly. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he answered.

** _Second Floor Girl’s Bathroom_ **

The door to the bathroom opened, and instead of finding it empty, like one would assume at eight in the morning—when students should be at breakfast—a few of his Knights, the ones he trusted the most, were all waiting.

Well . . . except for Smith. He wasn’t there.

All were extremely uncomfortable, and she had to bury her face in Tom’s neck to hide her snickers.

“My Lord,” they all intoned with a bow.

“Why are we here?” Abraxas whined, “it’s the girl’s bathroom.”

“Do you doubt me?” Tom hissed. Eden had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing, and almost buried her face into his neck, but didn’t. She must have made some indication to her amusement though, because he pinched the soft skin of her inner thigh. She bit his neck in revenge, and he shuddered beneath her.

The Knights shook their heads before they all bowed to him. “No, my Lord. I apologize, my Lord.”

That was creepy.

They had all spoken at once.

Even though it should have only been Abraxas.

She almost felt like crying. She buried her face in Tom’s shoulder. His head tilted to the side, and he somehow made the gesture look like he tilted his head back and to the side to look down his nose at them, while in reality he was kind of nuzzling her.

She loved him. So much.

“Good,” he intoned with a wicked inflection that made her shiver. He moved over to the sinks and looked down his nose at them. “**Open**,” he hissed.

The sinks sunk slowly into the ground, and she watched the Knights jump into the hole after Tom commanded them to. As the last Knight jumped, she remembered what Tom had told her when he first showed her to the Chamber in her second year. It had been one of the first times that he had to leave her alone to go to class because she had been too injured to go with him and couldn’t be left in his dorm room for some reason or other—she couldn’t remember the reason why.

_Why is it in the girl’s bathroom, Tom?_

_Because this was originally Salazar’s office, little one._

_Really?_

_Yes. When pluming was invented, they needed to put a bathroom somewhere, and because no one knew that this was once his office, and thought it was just an abandoned classroom, they put it here. The school added the entrance for the basilisk to be able to protect the students._

_What about the other Founders’ offices?_

_They have been lost to time as well, unfortunately._

_Maybe we can find them one day._

_Perhaps, my little one._

** _The Chamber of Secrets_ **

Soon, she and Tom were down the slide, and leading the way into the main chamber. Once there, she whispered in his ear. “What’s going on, Tom?”

“**Have patience, my love**,” he hissed fondly. “**Azteca, we have guests**.”

“**Master! You have returned! Where is Small One? I smell her, but I cannot see her. Where is she**?” the slightly hyper-active basilisk demanded as she entered the room with the protective film over her eyes for the non-parselmouths.

Eden paid no mind to the Knights who had closed their eyes, nor to Tom who had begun to explain that Azteca’s stare wasn’t fatal at the moment. She slipped off of his back, and ran over to the large snake, and stood in front of her. “**I am here, Azteca**.”

“**Small One**!” she hissed excitedly before she nudged her nose forward and knocked her down. “**Small One? Where are you? I must see you, my hatchling**.”

She stood and dusted herself off and looked at Tom. As if he could sense her stare, he nodded. When she did nothing, he spoke. “**It’s alright, love. Trust me**.”

Her left brow furrowed, and she shrugged before she conjured a clear goblet of water. She laughed softly when the Knights all flinched and huddled together. She dipped her thumb into the cup and laughed again when they paled as it turned a pale orange and she became visible.

“Hello,” she greeted the boys. She turned from the scared teenagers—who honestly looked like they were about to faint—and greeted Azteca who nudged her with her nose. “**Hello, Azteca. I have missed you**.”

“**I have missed you as well, Small one. Master has told me of the Tournament. I wish to bite all who have made you suffer. So, in your time, you are to come wake me, and we are going to bite all of those who have made you suffer. Deal**?”

Eden laughed at the snake, and then bent over at the waist when Tom loudly protested. “**I’ll think about it**,” she laughed.

She laughed for a few more minutes before Tom strung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her over to stand in front of the seven Knights. “Gentlemen, this is Eden. Eden, you already know them.”

“How?” Androtheny complained.

She smiled secretively. “I’ve been around far longer than you realize.”

“What’s my name?”

She smiled. “Androtheny Selwyn. You’re a sixth year, and you prefer to be called Andy. _I_, however, prefer to call you Prissy.”

Abraxas cackled and bent over at the waist when Androtheny started to squawk. “What about me?” he demanded after he got his breath back.

“Abraxas Septimus Malfoy. You hold the position of Prince in Slytherin Politics, and you’re Tom’s Right-Hand. You’re a seventh year, and a Peacock Bastard.” She ignored his squawk, and everyone else’s laughter, and proceeded to name the rest of the Knights that she knew. “Orion Pollux Black, sixth year—” _technically my grand-godfather_ “—and I call you Starbright.” He nodded thoughtfully at the name, but still looked uncomfortable with it. She turned to the next. “Marcellus Avery, you’re a seventh year, and I call you either Avian or Birdy. It depends on my mood, and yes, one is a good mood, the other is not. Theodosius Nott, you’re a sixth year, and you get the pleasure to be called Theo. Amaryllis Goyal, seventh year. You despise your name because you’re male, so I hope you’ll like your new name. I dub thee, _Gargoyle_.” Unlike the others, he actually looked pleased with the name, and began to preen like a peacock.

Holy _Merlin_ Abraxas was a bad influence.

She turned to the last. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name, however.”

“Julian Mulciber. I’m a fifth year.”

“Ah, that’s why. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Tom cleared his throat and pulled her closer into his side. “Where’s Smith?” she asked softly. She grabbed his hand that hung over her left shoulder and began to play with his fingers.

“Sick,” he murmured softly to her before he turned to his Knights. “The reason that we are all gathered here today, is because we need someone to practice with Eden.”

“What do you mean, my L—Tom.” Gargoyle cleared his throat after his slipup.

Eden giggled, and Tom pressed a loving kiss against the top of her head. “You see, Eden is my girlfriend.” Tom waited for the chokes and sputtering gasps to die down before he continued on. “She attends a different school, and she’s entered a competition. She will be going up against her other, _older_, competitors on the 24th. You, gentlemen are going to be her practice partners, as much as I dislike the idea of her being left alone with you. Orion, Abraxas, because you don’t have any classes on Fridays, the two of you will be here with her until she has to leave at 10:30.” The two nodded. “The rest of you will be here every day, including Fridays, except for Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. I’ll be handling the more . . . _delicate_ training on those days. Today, the rest of you will watch Orion, Abraxas, and Eden until you have your classes, and if needed, you will switch.”

“Wait!” Abraxas squawked, “we’re fighting now?”

Tom’s grin was all teeth and thirsted for blood. “Yes, Abraxas. Why else would we be here? In fact, you’ll be going first.” Eden bit her lips to keep herself from laughing as he squawked once more. “Get into position, both of you.”

“**Do I have permission to punish the peacock if he hurts Small One**?” Eden snorted and covered her mouth.

“**No, pet. You are more than welcome to scare him though**.”

Eden bowed to Abraxas and lifted a brow when he just stared at Tom. “What are the rules?”

“Nothing you can’t successfully, completely, and personally heal,” he immediately responded. The blonde nodded as if that was normal.

Abraxas finally returned her bow, and she grinned maliciously as she bowed once more, a little mocking. He hesitantly lifted his wand, and she tilted her head to the side. It was never a habit of hers to strike first—similar to many of her fellow Slytherins. “**Is he too weak**?” she asked quietly. She snickered when the blonde paled at the sibilant tone.

Tom huffed a laugh. “It is not that he is weak, love—” Abraxas paled in anger. “—he’s just hesitant to hurt you, as he should be,” Tom leisurely explained.

“Oh. I see. Well then, if _you_ won’t attack first, _I_ shall attack first.” Before she finished speaking, she flicked her wand, and a mild cutting hex mixed with the Boomerang Charm and Slingshot Jinx fired towards the boy whose white hair fell to his mid-thighs—so jealous.

Abraxas quickly erected a shield, and instead of the hex dissolving like it normally would, it bounced off the shield, and raced towards her. Rather than hitting her, it went slightly to her right where it arced ten feet behind her and shot towards the blonde once more, barely missing her left arm in the process. The hex was now much faster, and stronger than it had originally been.

The spell hit his shield, shattered it, and sent him back fifteen feet with a shallow cut across his chest. He pushed himself up and stared at her wide-eyed as some hair fell over his shoulder.

“How?” he breathlessly demanded.

A smirk tugged at her lips. “Like this.”

She flicked her wand once more, and the spell careened towards him. A shallow cut appeared on his cheek, as a lock of pale blonde hair—that happened to be the same length as her own (she was very much jealous of his hair length, and wasn’t ashamed about it)—was severed at his chin and fluttered to the floor.

The Chamber was silent.

“Oh, _hell_ no,” he hissed after he looked up from it.

He pushed himself up with another hiss, and flicked his wand, and a blue spell that she recognized to be a fairly intense flipping curse careened towards her.

She erected a Raw Shield, and the fight truly began.

The two shot curses, jinxes, and hexes at each other for a good three minutes with both either dodging or jumping out of the way or dissolving the spells before they hit shields or delicate body parts—neither were afraid to play dirty (neither stopped moving).

Abraxas flicked his wand in a semi-familiar movement, and a Curse—it looked like the Rotting Curse—flared to life on the end of his wand before it shot towards her. She flicked her own wand, with barely any effort put into it, and her own Curse sailed towards him.

The Rotting Curse, and the Terror Bane met in the middle, and a bright, white light shone from where the two soul-destroying Curses pushed against each other.

The two teens were stuck in an intense battle of wills, with her Curse slowly strengthening as she started to lose control of the delicate Bindings on her Core—who knew an hour of meditation a day turned something once strong as steel into something _pitiful_ and _weak_ (she most certainly didn’t). It wasn’t until her Curse was so potent that it would kill Abraxas with the slightest brush with him. It wasn’t until she had only a few threads of control remaining that she started to think of conceding.

If only her pride would let her.

She rapidly thought—as sweat and Tears began to drip down her face—until she came up with a possible solution—it was too risky, and probably wouldn’t work, but the death of Abraxas wasn’t acceptable, and it would get Abraxas out of the way.

“**Put a shield up. Around the others. I have no control**,” she hissed.

Tom did as she asked, and she began.

She fisted her left hand before she put it down to her side at a 30-degree angle. In two swift motions, that almost looked like one, she opened her fingers and turned her hand so her palm faced out; she then swung her hand forward, and a baby-pink spell left the palm of her hand and hit Abraxas, who then fell like a rock.

With the Rotting Curse no longer damming the Terror Bane, she whipped it to the right, and the Curse waved, and with movements like a snake, it crashed into the far wall of the chamber, and she ceased the Casting. The ground and walls shook for a moment before a truly _unholy_ scream resounded around them. Small pebbles fell from the ceiling, and the Curse finally ran out of power, and silence reigned once more.

“I’m not doing that again,” she panted.

While the Knights stood in shock, Tom helped her reBind her Core with so many Bindings, they might as well have just reLocked it once more. Once she had control again, Tom waved his hand, and she and Abraxas were healed, and the blonde shakily stood. He swayed on his feet, still slightly groggy from his forced sleep.

Once he was awake and at full brain power once more, he stared at her with wide eyes and a deep respect that she had only seen the man give few people. “I take it that Tom has been teaching you?” he asked softly as he held out his hand.

She took it, and like a proper Pureblood, he kissed her knuckles. Tom, ever the jealous and possessive creature, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into his side. “Yes. He has been for quite some time, actually. I must say, you did _much_ better than I thought you would, Peacock Bastard.” The blonde sputtered as Tom laughed deeply before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Orion, you’re next.”

The sixth year squirmed for a moment before he stepped into the makeshift dueling ring, and Tom stepped out. The two bowed to each other, and unlike Abraxas, Orion casted first, and he used a Curse.

She cast the Counter to the Phantom Form Curse—why did people like that one so much? —and returned the Curse with the Curse of Mania. A large, manic—psychotic—grin spread across the sixth year’s face before he began to babble at a million miles an hour. He did that for a few seconds before he started to cast spells that she didn’t recognize, and soon flowers were _everywhere_. She quickly Countered the Curse of Mania. He fell to the ground in tears as his body shook with sobs and snot ran down his face.

Eden looked to Tom with a lifted brow, concerned for the sixth year’s sanity. He merely gestured for her to continue on with the fight. She shrugged, bit her lips from laughing uncomfortably at Orion and shot a cutting hex at him. The sixth year was more aware than she thought he was, because he got a shield up in time, and because she hadn’t mixed the hex with anything, dissolved against his surprisingly strong protection.

The sobbing boy stood and shot another Curse at her. She blinked at the unknown spell, and because she wasn’t entirely sure _what_ it was, or which shield she should use to best defend against it, summoned a Raw Shield seven feet in front of her. When the Curse hit the shield and hesitated, she jumped to the side, curled into a ball, and created a semi-opaque Dome Shield.

It was a good thing that she did, because her little bubble of protection was soon the meal of a magic-hungry Curse. She rolled onto her back and stared at the small spider-web cracks that started to form in her Shield and viciously thought.

While she thought, the cracks grew, and she unBound her Core slightly, and the cracks disappeared as more magic was given to the Shield. The Curse—whatever it was—grew stronger with her Shield and curled around it until she could see nothing but inky purple. She thought, and thought, and ignored the panic that began to well inside of her. An idea came to her.

The Curse was eating her magic.

Could she eat at _it_?

She uncurled her right arm from where it pinned her knees to her chest and fisted her right hand and almost pressed her white knuckles against the once-again cracking Dome Shield. With her left hand, she tightly gripped her right upper arm, just above her elbow, and began to summon Black Fire. A small lick of it formed over her middle finger knuckle, but it wouldn’t be enough to absorb the Curse once the Dome Shield either failed—which it would soon, unless she gave it more magic—or dropped.

_Hey, Tom? What’s the deal with Blood Magic?_

_What do you mean, little one?_

_Why do people say it’s evil?_

_Because blood makes spells stronger. It doesn’t matter if you’re casting a spell classified as Blood Magic or not. If you’re bleeding, the spell will be stronger. It’s one of the few ways that you can strengthen a spell that has a single power-level. Because of this, it’s why a lot of professional duelers, or Aurors allow themselves to get cut or injured while working._

Eden smiled fondly as she recalled how proud Tom had been of her that day. It had been shortly after she had returned to school after Yule holidays in her first year, and it was one of the first times that she hadn’t labeled a Branch of Dark Magic evil due to something she had heard.

It had helped that she had just read a book on Blood Magic Healing Spells a few days prior to that conversation.

She released her arm and transfigured the fingernails of her left hand into dagger tips before she drug them down her arm from her knuckles to her elbow. She bit her knee as the pain raced through her with a fiery intensity, and the cuts began to glow. With a painful jolt on her Core, four thick, Black flames licked against the Dome Shield, and soon it dissolved after she stopped pouring magic into it, so she wouldn’t diminish her own reserves with the Black Fire.

The Curse lunged towards her, but the Black Fire quickly devoured it.

Once the Curse was gone, she flipped back onto her feet. Orion had moved to her right, and Tom had moved a few steps towards her as well, and his magic snapped violently around the room. She smiled at him, and in one, swift movement, she pressed the tip of her wand against her left shoulder, and with a wave in the middle of the line she created as she flicked it to her right, a bright red Curse formed, and Orion was soon launched into the air by a red ribbon. The ribbon wrapped around him, and every five seconds, blood would squirt from one of the ribbons edges.

“I concede!” he shouted after a minute.

She dropped the Curse of Ribbons and sent the counter for it at him. He fell to the ground and laid in silence as the Cure of Ribbons healed him. Tom took her arm into his hands and quickly healed the still-glowing cuts while she returned the knife points back into nails. “You did well,” he rewarded her as he wrapped her close in his arms. “Smart thinking.”

She breathed in his addicting scent and reBound her Core. She left the same amount of magic that she always did and pressed a kiss to Tom’s racing heart as she mentally Scanned her Core. The bundle that curled and flickered in her center was smaller than it usually was when she Bound it, but she didn’t pay too much mind to it.

The man holding her took a few deep, shaky breaths before he kissed the top of her head and released her. She moved to Orion and offered him her hand to help him stand. Once standing, she spoke, “You did really, really well, Starbright. What was that curse?”

“The Curse of Devoured Magic.”

She smiled and turned to Tom. “You need to teach me that one.”

He smiled softly and inclined his head as he wrapped her in his arms once more. “How did you get rid of it?” Orion demanded as he bounced on his feet. “It’s been in my family for generations, and as far as I’m aware, there’s no Counter for it.”

“Black Fire. It eats at magic,” she explained as his confused look. “Tom taught me.”

“As much fun as this is,” Tom broke in, “we have classes that we need to attend. Abraxas, Orion, keep practicing with Eden. She’ll lead you out at 10:30.”

“Yes, my Lord—Tom.”

Eden giggled and waved them off. Tom turned her in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he whispered softly. He nuzzled her nose with his.

“I love you, too.” She kissed him again, and he reluctantly left after sending his Knights a pointed look.

Once the three—technically four (she could _never_ forget Azteca)—were left alone, Eden grinned ferally. “So, who wants to go now?”

The two paled. Orion pushed Abraxas forward.

* * *

** _Wednesday, June 7, 1995_ **

** _ Hogwarts Grounds_ **

“Do you smell that?”

Eden, who had her face tilted to the sun, sniffed. “Other than grass, sunshine, and _dirt_, I smell nothing,” she answered Ambrosia.

Draco sniffed the air next to her. “No, there’s something else there . . . something . . . something . . .”

“Tangy?” Theo asked after he sniffed.

“No . . . it’s kind of metallic,” Millie added after she sniffed.

“Yeah, and—” sniff “—sweet . . .” Septimus trailed off. He pulled away from Evanius’ ‘snuggling’—it was more possessive than anything else—embrace and continued to sniff.

“Sweet . . . yet . . . _pungent_ at the same time,” Blaise finished.

Theo started to snap his fingers as he perked up. “Hey! It kind of smells like lightning!”

Ambrosia ‘oohed’ as she began to nod, and Septimus, Evanius, Pansy, Daphne, Millie, and Draco—the other fourth years were in Divination (such a useless subject)—eagerly agreed with him.

“Now that you say it,” Draco started, “it does.”

Eden tilted her head to the right and sniffed again and realized that they were smelling Dark Magic—_her_ magic. “That’s ozone,” she commented lightly before she silently cooed at Septimus and Evanius who were snuggling once more—they really didn’t realize how they looked to everyone else, and she found _that_ more adorable than the cuddling.

She hadn’t even noticed the scent because she was so used to smelling it around Tom that it no longer processed unless she tried to smell it, or someone was casting.

“What?”

“What’s ozone?”

“It’s something in the air,” Evanius and Septimus said at the same time. The two flushed a deep red and buried their faces in each other’s necks.

“It’s also what Dark Magic smells like,” she added.

“You can smell magic?”

“If you know what it smells like, yeah. It’s too subtle to really notice if you don’t know what it smells like, or if the person casting is weak. Light Magic smells like roses or orange blossoms when it’s being used by a Light or Neutral type Core. Dark Magic smells like ozone when it’s being used by a Dark Core type, and slightly bitter when someone with too Light a Core is casting it, and it’s acrid when someone with a Light Core type casts it.”

“What does Neutral and Gray Magic smell like?”

Eden shrugged. “No one knows. A lot of people think they’re scentless, but personally, I think that they’re just used so much that we can’t really tell what it smells like because we smell it all of the time.”

“Oh, kind of like when our houses stop having a smell because we get used to it?”

Eden nodded. “Exactly.”

“But . . . why do we smell it right now? No one’s casting.”

She shrugged, more than unwilling to admit even to herself that even tightly Bound, her magic was that strong.

“I’m not sure,” she lied.

The lie was bitter on her tongue.

* * *

** _Thursday, June 7, 1945_ **

** _ Chamber of Secrets_ **

A blasting curse rocketed towards Eden from the opposite side of the room.

She did nothing but let it slam into her impeccable Battle Shield. The Shield wrapped around her, and she was sent into the air as she flipped multiple times as if she were doing a muggle cartwheel. Her body stayed straight, and when she neared the wall, she cast another Battle Spell.

Immediately, her body stopped flipping, and she was pulled to the wall as gravity around her shifted. First her right foot connected with the stone, and then her left. She wiped the dust off of her sweaty stomach and slightly damp sports bra before she walked down the wall and stepped off of the wall and onto the Chamber’s floor. Her head swayed for a moment as her personal gravity returned to normal.

She tilted her head to the side, and with a wide, harsh flourish of her wand, Orion was sent back five feet as he dodged the Dark curse sent his way. He fell to the ground as he ducked to dodge it once more when it came back around with the Boomerang Charm.

He stood and spat blood out to the side before he wiped his mouth and glared at her. Her head tilted to the side as a smile tugged at her lips. “What’s the matter, Starbright? Are you too tired to keep going?”

The sixth year snarled and started on another volley of spells that she blocked and countered easily. With another shout of rage, Orion sheathed his wand, and ran towards her. His hands gripped harshly onto her shoulders, and she immediately had her hands wrapped around his left arm before she threw him to the ground.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and a spasm jinx formed on the palms of her hands before it immediately oozed into the boy, and he began to flail. As he jerked against the ground, she held her right hand out to the side and summoned a knife, which she quickly pressed into his neck as the spasm jinx wore off. With still trembling hands, Orion pressed the tip of his wand against the quillion of the dagger and blasted it out of her hand and to the other side of the room.

Despite the heavy bleeding in her hand, Eden picked him up and threw him across the Chamber and to left of the entrance with some of the hand-to-hand with Battle Magic. Orion hit the wall and cussed violently just as Tom walked in.

His class either got out early, or he was skipping the end of it.

He stopped and blinked for a few moments before he grinned ferally and leaned against the doorway as he settled in to watch the fight.

Orion groaned and laid on the ground for a minute longer before he stood and ran towards her. With a grin at Tom, she proceeded to thoroughly trash Orion. For ten minutes he kept trying to tackle her to the ground or get her wand out of her hands.

For ten minutes, she constantly introduced him to the floor.

(by the end of the day, she expected the two to have a sexy date together)

“What—_was_—that?” he gasped after she finally claimed his wand.

Both teens were covered in blood and sweat, and both were exhausted. “Hand-to-hand fighting mixed with Ancient Battle Magic.”

He frowned as he continued to gasp for breath, and almost curled closer into the floor—see? (the sexy date was inevitable). “Fighting . . . like a muggle?” he panted.

“Yes.”

“_And_ a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“Teach me. Please. Teach me to fight like that!” He crawled to his knees and continued to pant in front of her. “_Please_, Eden.”

She glanced up at Tom and breathed deeply as she suppressed/hid a yawn. He straightened when he caught it and started towards her. “I don’t mind him joining us on Sundays.”

Sundays were when they worked on their hand-to-hand, Saturdays were the days they worked on spells and Curses, and Wednesdays were the days that they worked on Veiling her Core.

Tom nodded his assent and frowned when she suppressed another yawn. “Fine.” He flicked his wand, and the time showed that it was almost eleven.

“Tom? _Tom_ teaches you?”

“No, I teach him.”

His shoulders slumped before he smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you,” he gasped before he fell onto his side, dead asleep before his shoulder even connected with the ground.

Tom quickly wrapped his arms around her and held her close when she yawned again. “That was very impressive,” he murmured into her ear before he kissed it.

She smiled tiredly and yawned once more. “Thank you.”

He smiled softly and kissed her. It was to his lips pressed against hers that she fell asleep and awoke in another time.

* * *

** _Thursday, June 15, 1995_ **

** _ Room of Requirement_ **

“You can do it, Eden. I believe in you.”

Eden took a deep breath, nodded her head, and tried again. Her Core was entirely unBound, and she had grown weary of doing the same thing over and over again, with little changes in results. She wasn’t Drained—she was nowhere _close_ to that type of exhaustion—she was just frustrated.

The room glowed softly as the Dome Shield formed, and her magic took on a faint glow of its own. Another Dome Shield appeared in front of her, only it was upside down, like a boat, almost . . . a really, _really_ round boat. The two Shields grew until they covered the entire mass of her magic, and then their edges extended until they touched, and something in her mind hummed as the Shields groaned softly.

She had gotten to that point many times, but she hadn’t gotten any further.

“Alright, good. Now, you need to try and keep the Shields around your magic when it’s Bound. What you’ll need to do is Bind your Core, and as it shrinks, you’ll need to shrink the Shields with it.”

She sighed and nodded once more. She started the tedious process of Binding her Core, and she ignored the blood that dripped from her nose and onto her lips as her Core began to curl back into her body. The already herculean task was only made worse with attempting to shrink two Very Large Shields at once _and_ trying to prevent a Lash-Back from happening at the same time.

She was honestly nearing the point that she’d take the Lash-Back if it meant _finally_ Veiling her Core. Despite that desire, whenever she’d feel the Lash-Back start, she’d pause, unBind her Core a little bit, wait until the danger passed, and then she would continue on.

She was doing it wrong, but she was to the point that she didn’t _care_ if she did it _wrong_.

It was a very good thing that Tom wasn’t there, or he’d have her head.

It was nearly forty minutes after she started the Veiling process before the room turned dark as her magic finally became encased entirely within her body.

She ignored the praise from Snakey-Snape as she proceeded to tightly Bind her Core until she was left with a slightly larger-than-usual amount of magic and left it within the Veil before she looked up at Snakey-Snape.

“I did it?” she asked breathlessly before her legs collapsed from exhaustion.

_Tata_ was there in an instant. He began to check her over as he spoke. “Oh, yes. Might I suggest leaving a little bit of your magic outside of the Veil . . . something unTainted, perhaps.”

“Why?”

He pulled her into his arms, and she leaned into the warmth. “Because, my dear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you were a muggle.”

Her mouth fell open, and due to the Strain and the shock, she fainted.

* * *

** _Friday, June 15, 1945_ **

** _ Chamber of Secrets_ **

The words spoken to her over the years echoed in her mind.

_You’re worthless_.

She shot the Curse of Despair at Abraxas.

_You’re not my daughter_.

She shot the Terror Bane at Orion and dropped it after he pissed himself.

_You’ll never be as good as your brother_.

Evan Rosier fell to the ground as he clutched at his throat as the Strangulation Jinx wrapped around his neck and started to choke him. She canceled the Jinx and blocked the multiple spells launched at her from Abraxas and stuck him to the ceiling after a moment of intense fighting.

(she didn’t know it, but those whom she fought against were quite terrified at the blank look on her face, and the pain in her hard, emerald eyes)

Orion ran at her and grabbed her arm in a poor attempt to throw her over his shoulder, and only succeeded in getting puss-filled sores on his hands. He cried out and kicked his leg towards her. She grabbed it and threw him across the room where he stuck to the wall. He laughed and began to heal his hands.

_I wish you had never been born, Noah_.

The words would have hurt less had they been said by her mother.

The last person in the room who was still able to stand limped in front of her and held his wand in position next to his head, while hers was brandished like a sword at her side. “Are you ready, Eden?”

She smirked viciously at him, more than ready for another challenge. “Oh, you’re _so_ on, Noah.”

She took in the fresh-faced form of the teen and could see where Ambrosia got her unique coloring from. Hell, they were nearly twins. Noah’s skin was snow white, and he had silvery-pink eyes—a different shade than Ambrosia’s neon pink eyes—that marked his line to be more than just human.

She wasn’t entirely sure _where_ in the line the Creature Blood had been mixed in, and she wasn’t sure what the creature was—she didn’t think the _Smiths_ even knew what creature it was—only that the Blood affected them with unique coloring.

In sharp contrast to his milky skin, was his short, pitch-black hair that was neatly combed back and into a short ponytail that flounced with every movement the seventh year made.

He kind of looked like Snow White, now that she thought about it.

Noah Smith was second to Tom, in only that he had less Raw power than him. Other than that, the two seventh years were practically equals in their fighting style. Both adored hexes, jinxes, and curses. Neither shied away from Curses nor potentially killing their opponent.

There was a reason he was Tom’s Left Hand, after all.

Their similarities became increasingly obvious as she had to go from mostly offensive to completely defensive about two minutes into their fight as she had to continually Counter the Phantom Form Curse, the Curse of Desire, the Curse of Amber, and the Curse of the Hallowed Ones. He eventually moved on from those and started to throw the Cruciatus Curse willy-nilly, and then moved onto what she assumed was the Imperius, only based on the fact that he had faltered just long enough for her to put him on the defensive.

She continually shot Curse after curse, after hex, after jinx, after charm at him. Most she combined with either the Boomerang Charm or the Slingshot Jinx, and some—like cutting hexes—she combined with both.

As they fought, Noah grew more tired, and Eden was forced to continually unBind her Core until it was nearly unBound completely. He hit her many times, but she would forever blame that on the fact that she was struggling to ignore the Veil and not worry about it coming undone—something that would only happen if she forcefully did it.

It was about fifteen minutes after the two started before he was on the ground panting while his wand was in her hand.

Unlike Noah, Eden wasn’t Drained in the slightest—she was exhausted though. She dropped the sticking spells on Orion and Abraxas and gently levitated them down so one wouldn’t die, and the other wouldn’t break something.

The five sat in a weary circle as they all slowly recovered from the fight.

She turned her head to Evan and looked at him from where she laid on the ground. “How’s the throat?”

He glared playfully at her as he rubbed it. “I still feel violated. What did that even choke me with?”

“Your blood.”

He paled, shivered, and she giggled while she sat up and began to stretch before she could cramp.

The five continued to idly chat while she and Orion stretched, and it was after a joke that Noah told her—more like a crude prank he saw played on a Hufflepuff by a Ravenclaw—that arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Her laughter turned into a shriek.

She activated a Battle Magick spell, and a thud and a muffled curse was soon heard after. She turned and doubled over in laughter when her eyes landed on Tom in a ruffled heap next to Azteca with a scowl on his face.

She stumbled over to him, unable to walk in a straight line due to how hard she was laughing and helped him up while she ignored the snickers of the Knights that she called her friends. “I’m so sorry, love,” she giggled, “you—you—you scared me,” she cackled.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Yes, I could tell,” he replied drily.

“I am sorry,” she repeated. He continued to scowl, so she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He quickly softened, and when she pulled away, he put his hands on her hips and chased her lips with his own and kissed her softly, both were mindful of their company. “I’m sorry,” she tried once more.

“I know.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, and then another to her forehead, and they turned back to the Knights who looked _anywhere_ except for them, and they had bright red stains on their cheeks—except for Abraxas and Noah. Both were quite pleased, and smug. “You all did well, especially you, Noah—”

Logically, she knew that he spoke to Noah Smith, one of his closest friends, but something in her stirred at hearing her birthname leave his lips—as it always did since she had officially met the seventh year two weeks prior (hearing Tom say his name had never affected her before then—granted, he hadn’t said his name since they had started dating, and she realized she was in love with him). Hearing her given name fall from his lips made her tingly inside, and for the first time since Diagon Alley before her first year, she didn’t mind hearing it.

Would he perhaps say it differently if he knew it _was_ her given name, the name he had begged for since he figured out that ‘Eden’ wasn’t her first name. Would he say it differently if he was speaking towards her?

“—and of course, Eden, my love, you did marvelous as well with the Banana Jinx to gain Noah’s wand.” He kissed her softly once more. “I have complete faith in you come the 24th.”

She grinned and leaned into him, her face a light pink. “Thank you, love.”

* * *

** _Friday, June 16, 1995_ **

** _ Riddle Manor_ **

Barty shut the door softly behind him and knelt at his Master’s feet.

“Master,” he greeted, “I have news.”

“Oh? I do love to hear news. What is it, my friend?”

“It’s about Noah Potter.”

His Master’s head tilted to the side as something flashed across his face before it faded away with a slightly furrowed brow. “What has the darling _hellion_ done to earn such level of respect from _you_, Barty?”

He flushed slightly. “I am faithful to you, and you alone, my Lord,” he begged. He kissed the blanket keeping his Master warm and recast the warming charm. “Please, my Lord.”

Magic brushed through his hair. “Calm yourself, Bartemius. I am aware of your loyalty to me, and me alone. It is not every day that someone is able to gain your _respect_. Now, pray tell, what has she done?”

“She’s Veiled her Core.”

His Master blinked and sat forward slightly as his familiar curled around him and stared at him with unsettling intelligence. “She’s _what_?”

“She—she’s managed to Veil her Core. Honestly, if I hadn’t met her before, I would have thought that she was a squib, or even a _muggle_. It’s so strange, my Lord,” he couldn’t keep the awe out of his tone as he continued to explain everything he had noticed. “She had been messing with some Darker Magic’s that leave Stains on the Core, but . . . I hadn’t been entirely too sure due to the Expansion she had in February . . . but, my Lord . . .. She’s _Veiled_ her Core _entirely_. At the age of _fourteen_. That’s only proof that she’s playing with things that she doesn’t entirely understand, right? And _someone_ is protecting her.”

“Yes, all of that is true. Thank you, Barty.” His Lord stared off into the distance with a pensive frown on his face, and Barty took that as his cue to leave, and he did so silently.

When Voldemort was alone once more, he opened the trunk. A moping Abyss slid out of it and stumbled his way over to him. The hound curled on top of his body like usual, and tears that burned his sensitive skin landed in large, heavy drops.

He pushed some Raw Magic into the Hellhound and fought to blink away the tears that threatened to fall when the beast whimpered and howled softly. “**My Human**!” he wailed.

Voldemort’s heart broke. “I know, Abyss, I know.”

Thorin flew out of the trunk and landed on the pouting hound’s head. “**If you would be so kind as to give me some Magic, Human, I would be grateful. All he does is cry now since he thought he smelt his Human on one of your three men. I’m going to go get some damn sleep now**.”

He gave the Dire Raven some magic, and he was quickly left with the Hellhound after he received a fond nip to his fingers.

He turned his attention back inside his mind and ran his fingers through fur that was rougher than straw and thought.

Something was missing.

_Other_ than Eden. She had been missing for nearly fifty years. She had gone, and she took his sanity with her.

But still . . . there was _something_.

“**My Human. My _Human_**,” the hound wailed, “**let me go find my Human. Please, Creator, let me find my Human**,” Abyss begged.

The beast had long since stopped using names.

“We don’t even know if she’s alive right now, or if she’d even _know_ you if she _was_ alive. I can’t let you go, Abyss.” It broke his heart to say it.

It broke his heart to hear the mourning howls.

** _Location Undisclosed_ **

He stepped into the room and was confused. He had seen the miniature Hellhound many times. He’d even seen the shrunken Dire Raven many times as well.

Never before had be heard such heartbreaking sounds, nor had he seen the tears on his Master’s face.

“My Lord?”

The deformed man shook his head. “I apologize for my state, ——. Are you here to work on the Ritual?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He moved to his station on the far side of the room, removed the potion-grade stasis charm, and worked in silence for quite some time. The only sound was the occasional sniffled huff from the beast, and the occasional deep, shaky breaths from his Master.

“What is your opinion on Noah Potter?”

He continued to work, even as his shoulders tensed. “I believe that she is quite strong, my Lord.” He kept his voice neutral, and he desperately hoped that his Master didn’t pick up on anything.

“I hear she has Veiled her Core entirely,” he commented a few minutes later.

Pride welled in him, and he tilted his head forwards, so his hair hid his proud smile. “Has she?”

His Master hummed yet stayed silent.

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He glanced at the clock as he finished placing the usual stasis charm on the cauldron. It was just after nine, and he thought about what his daughter could be dreaming about.

Hopefully it was something that made her deliriously happy

He moved to the next cauldron, removed the charm, and began to work.

“I believe,” the Dark Lord started an hour later, “that once upon a time, Noah Potter would have made a great ally.”

His hands began to shake. “And now, my Lord?”

His throat was tight, his eyes burned, and his hands began to shake near uncontrollably. He glanced up at the Dark Lord and watched the man run fingers through the whimpering hound’s fur while Nagini wrapped protectively around them both and watched him with an unsettling awareness.

“We’ll have to see.”

He turned back to the potion and Prayed that his Master didn’t see the tear that fell, or the tear that he discretely wiped away.

(the snake did, and the connections she made . . . _how delicious_)


	31. 30 Come Back Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! I have changed Harry's name to Leif, so if you see that in the chapter, I'm sorry. I'm trying to wait until the end to go through all of it to change his name, but I might miss, since I've changed his name in the document.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that I wanted to have a really good birthday, so you're going to be getting another update on Tuesday. This chapter needed to happen before that update though...so...enjoy.

** _Saturday, June 16, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“I have something for you.”

Tom stood from his place on the couch and smirked as he moved towards Eden. He kissed her deeply with his hands wrapped around her neck and tilted her head back so he could devour her completely. “Thank you for the gift,” he murmured against her lips, “I enjoyed it very much,” he crooned before he nuzzled her nose with his.

“Tom!” she whined. She playfully slapped his chest; he laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Was that not it?” he asked with another smirk. Before she could answer, he kissed her again. His tongue stroked hers, and she sighed as his hands pulled her closer to him. After he nipped her tongue, she remembered what she was saying before, and she pulled away laughing and shook her head. “Hmm, if that wasn’t it, then I guess you’ll just have to tell me.”

She fondly rolled her eyes before she moved to his bed and sat down on the pillows. Tom followed after her and laid next to her. His head was propped on his right hand, and his left-hand rested palm flat on her left thigh. She curled towards him—he moved his hand to her outer right thigh—and reached into her pearl bag, and pulled out the locket she had purchased from a men’s jewelry catalogue she asked Narcissa to send to her—the psychotic woman sent seven (including the one she asked for).

The locket she purchased was fairly large—two inches by an inch and a half. It had beveled edges and was made of rhodium that had been polished—or spelled—to an almost obnoxious shine. The locket face had three Vivid Green diamonds; one Fancy Deep Green diamond; 27 semi-large white diamonds; seven gray diamonds that looked like smoke had been trapped inside—she suspected that it actually _was_ smoke because of the way it moved inside the gem (it was obvious it was a magical stone); 57 small white diamonds, and seven emeralds.

Altogether the stones were arranged to make a beautiful snake with green, white, and gray scales surrounded by small white diamonds. The chain was long and made of white gold with interlocking links that made it look like hair-thin strands of metal had been twisted together to form a fine rope. It was 4,512 Galleons, but it was money very well spent.

“Here,” she said as she handed it over. “Cissica sent a catalogue with her last letter, and I saw this, and I thought of you, so I got it.”

Not a lie.

Especially since she got it from one of the catalogues she _hadn’t_ asked for.

Her mind went blank at the pure and blinding smile he sent her. “It’s absolutely amazing, thank you, my love,” he whispered. He curled his left hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He bumped his nose against hers twice before he pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss that made Eden’s heart sing and cry out for joy.

“I love you, Tom,” she muttered as his nose bumped hers again.

“I love you, too, Eden.” He kissed her once more before his attention went back to the locket—she was almost convinced that his attraction to rare and shiny things was just as bad as her attraction to anything sparkly (it was nowhere _close_). He admired the outside of it for a few minutes before he slipped it on over his head. He sat up and faced her. “How does it look?”

“Better . . . now that it’s on you.” She blushed a bright red after she spoke. “Look inside,” she insisted before he could tease her.

He sent her a knowing grin and wink before he did as commanded. He opened it up, and to her shock, his breath caught. She knew he stared at a lock of black hair, and a picture that Pansy had taken earlier that year while they had been down at the Black Lake in early March.

The wind had been blowing and whipping Draco in the face with her hair as he had been trying to braid it—he was determined to prove that he could braid hair just as well as Blaise (she had long since decided to not even attempt to understand _that_ pissing contest).

Once she had noticed what had been happening, Pansy had immediately summoned her camera from the depths of her bag—they all put extension charms on them once they figured out how to do so—and had immediately started taking as many pictures as she could.

The picture in the locket was the only one that didn’t have other students in the frame, and she had ended up looking at Pansy at the right moment. At the beginning of the loop, she was looking out over the Lake, with her hair pulled into a high ponytail blowing behind her. She turned her head and blew a kiss to Pansy—Tom, now. She then looked behind her, laughed—Draco, Blaise, and Theo had been wrestling—shook her head, before she smiled once more at the camera with a slight wave of her hand before she looked back out in the distance.

That picture was taken about five minutes before they all started to take pictures together, and she ended up getting tackled to the ground by Ambrosia.

Multiple times.

“You’re beautiful,” Tom whispered a few minutes later and snapped her out of her mind. He stroked the lock of hair that had been spelled to surround the picture like a mini frame. “You’re so beautiful, my heart weeps knowing that you are mine. I don’t deserve you, Eden.”

She blinked multiple times as her left brow furrowed, and her lips canted to the side as she frowned. His words fully registered, and she moved so she straddled his lap. She lifted his head and kissed him deeply and poured all of her emotions into the movement of her lips, the stroking of her tongue, and the near-harsh pulling of his hair. When she finally pulled away, she stroked his smooth-shaven cheeks and stared into his blue, blue eyes.

“I love you, Tom, and you are so far out of my league, it’s not even funny. Magically, socially, mentally,” she trailed off with a slight scoff. She stroked his cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I often think you’re a dream sent to me from either a loving angel, or a vengeful demon. If anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it is I, who does not deserve you.”

He blinked once before his eyes darkened. His hand curled tightly in her hair, and he yanked her towards him. He smashed their lips together and led her in a bruising kiss that quickly had her whimpering in pleasured pain as her jaw tired, her head where he gripped her hair began to ache, and painful fire rushed through her veins. His tongue stroked along hers before he adjusted their positions, so she was pinned to the bed beneath him.

She ripped her lips away from his to take deep, gasping breaths, and he kissed a trail of intoxicating fire along her jaw and behind her left ear. He bit and sucked for a moment before he moved down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He drug his tongue to the hollow of her throat where he paused to nibble until a soft sigh left her throat and her fingers buried into his hair. He smirked, victorious, against her skin before he peppered kisses to the right side of her neck where breathy sighs left her mouth at the sensitivity of her skin.

He smirked against the skin behind her ear and bit down. She tightened her hold on his hair, and a soft moan left her throat unwillingly. His knee pressed between her legs, just above her knees, and he continued the assault on her neck until his name fell into the air in a soft, desperate gasp.

“I love you,” he crooned before he took her lips into another bruising kiss.

Time was soon lost to the two of them, as they spent it kissing, and when their lips grew too sore, they spent it curled around each other whispering sweet nothings to each other.

“I love you, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Nothing in this world will _ever_ make me love you less.”

“I love you, Eden. So much.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, and she hummed softly before he pulled away and nuzzled her nose with his own. He pressed another kiss to her lips before he propped his chin on the top of her head and began to rub soothing circles on her hip and back with his thumbs.

They lay on his bed with their heads cradled by his pillow. Her hair was splayed around them in a wide circle, and both laid on it. She tilted her head up, and he brushed his nose against hers; she smiled and pecked his lips.

They lay in silence for a little longer before she jerked as she remembered something. “I almost forgot!” She reached into her pearl bag and pulled out a camera—Pansy had given it to her for her fourteenth birthday.

“What is _that_?” Tom demanded.

Eden laughed at the rumbling of his chest against her own. “It’s a camera. This type, the polaroid, was invented by muggles in the late ‘40s and was reinvented by wizards in the late ‘70s.”

(she didn’t notice the gleam in his eyes when he finally heard years further than the current year leave her mouth)

“What does it do?”

“I’ll show you.”

She sat up and ended up yanking her hair out from underneath him when he was more than unwilling to move. She expressed her displeasure with vile curses. “Language, love,” he teased lightly.

She just glared at him and pointed the device. “Smile!” He rolled his eyes and smiled at her, and she hit the capture button. The large bulb flashed, and a picture was spit out of the bottom of the camera. She grabbed it before he could and smiled brightly when the picture finished developing and the loop finally started.

Tom lay in the bed with his arm underneath his head, and he seemed to be staring amusedly at something beyond the camera. His gaze flickered to the front, and he smiled before he mouthed, _I love you_, with a wink and unbearable fondness in his eyes, before his gaze was adverted once more.

“I’m keeping this,” she said after her brain resumed normal activity.

“Might I see it first?” he asked gently. He sat up and she handed the photograph over to him and smiled when his eyebrows rose. “It’s amazing how advanced photography gets in thirty years.”

“That was when the first of this camera model was invented, not when _this_ camera was built.” It was a year old, and it somehow tapped into the magic of the person it was taking a picture of to better be able to . . . loop it, she guessed. She didn’t really know the theory behind it.

He smirked. “Still, I now know that you are at least thirty years in the past.”

Eden smiled. “I happen to know the exact number of _days_ that I’m in the past.”

“Can I have a number?” he asked hopefully.

_18,262_.

She hummed before she placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I don’t think so.”

He groaned before he summoned his wand from the other side of the room. Once it was in his fingers, he twirled it around with a flourish, and began to mutter spells that she had never heard before under his breath.

As he spoke, purple mists—_familiar_—royal blue nebulas—_familiar_—and blood red fogs—_unfamiliar, thank Merlin_—curled around his fingers. Her mind began to spin as what was just a vapor, something intangible, unable to be contained or truly touched, slowly became something solid, and a different color.

After twenty minutes that felt simultaneously like an instant and an eternity, he held something silver in his hands. “Close your eyes.” The blue, purple, and red mist still lingered, and wrapped around her and Tom, and she was hesitant to close her eyes. What if it hurt her? For the first time in years, Eden was afraid of whatever Magic(k?) Tom had used. “Eden?”

Her eyes snapped to his, and she saw his confusion, before it was blurred away when the bloody fog filled her vision. It stroked against her cheek, and she tensed. More phantom touches brushed against her upper arms and through her hair—and then fingers wrapped around her ankle.

“Tom?” she whispered.

Something brushed through her hair once more, and she could see Tom again as the red mist wrapped around the back of her head. She saw his fear in his eyes, and her head jerked to the side as the purple mist flashed.

_You are safe, my daughter. Close your eyes._

The voice, faint, but familiar, was comforting. Tom nodded his head—the fear in his eyes belittled what was supposed to be soothing—and she did as commanded.

Warmth wrapped around her, before it was gone.

Tom’s breath brushed against her forehead, and she tilted her head forward until her forehead rested against his chin. He kissed her head softly, and something heavy landed against her chest as something clicked behind her neck. His hands trailed down her back before he pulled her to him. He bumped her nose twice with his own, and then pressed a soft kiss against her lips that had the panicked beast inside of her calming.

“**Open, my love**,” he hissed softly.

She nuzzled his neck for a moment before she opened her eyes and looked down at whatever he had made her. She blinked away the tears, but her nose still burned. On her chest, now in her hands, was a locket, similar to the one she had given him.

Instead of being a rectangle, it was an oval with softly beveled edges, opposed to the almost harsh bevels on his own locket. The snake that curled around a large chunk of raw fire opal about the size of her thumbnail was made out of what appeared to be alexandrite, diamonds, and blue topaz.

On the silver below the snake was the word _Eternity_ etched in Parselscript. She flicked the latch open, and on the right side was the picture she had just taken of Tom, shrunken down, and framed with a lock of shiny brown hair.

“I love it,” she choked out, “I love _you_.”

“And I love you,” he returned before he kissed her softly. His hands held her waist and face gently, as if he was afraid if he held her too tightly, she would break far beyond his repair.

If he ever let go of her, she would break beyond anyone’s repair, even the Dark Lord’s, the strongest wizard to have ever lived—even stronger than Tom (and how that thought _terrified_ her).

She pulled away from the achingly soft kiss and fingered the empty side of the locket. “Let’s take a picture together.”

“We’ll need someone else to do it,” he said softly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She tutted playfully. “Oh, ye of un-modernized technology. Trust me.” He rolled his eyes fondly and smiled before he maneuvered her to sitting in between his legs. She floated the camera, so it hovered in front of them five feet away. “_Captis_,” she whispered. Three seconds later, the flash went off, and a photo spilled out of the bottom. 

She silently summoned the picture to them with a flick of her wand and received a proud kiss on the neck and a squeeze around her waist. The two stared in awe once the loop began.

The two sat in the same position the picture had been taken in, but instead of looking at the camera, they looked at each other, laughing, before Tom leaned in a kissed her after bumping their noses together twice. The kiss ended, and they rested their foreheads together before she started to laugh again, and the loop restarted as he joined in.

Tom gently pulled it out of her hands before he duplicated it and placed one in each of the lockets.

“Can I ask a question?”

He frowned softly and pulled her into a Super Tom Bear Hug. “What’s wrong?”

“What was that Magic? I thought it was impossible to conjure precious stones and precious metals . . . how did you do it? What was that mist?”

He sighed. “That was the Aether. It’s one of the few old Magiks that doesn’t always have a Price to Pay. It’s the larger things, getting into working with Life and Death, that Aether Magik gets a Price.”

“But—if that was the Aether—how come I’ve been able to see it and hear it?”

He tensed. “What?”

She shivered at his voice—it was the first time that tone had been used towards her. “Yeah. When I lost control with Dumbles and Kitty-Cat, it helped me Lock my Core before Snakey-Snape told me to unLock it for good. I also saw it about a month ago when I was talking about the Aether with Dragon, Guppy, Sunshine, and Hera.”

He stroked her cheek. “It’s probably nothing to worry about. It just means you’re powerful.”

She nodded hesitantly before she turned in his arms and kissed him. “Thank you.”

He kissed her as if she were about to die. “We’ll always be together now,” he whispered into her ear when she grew tired a few minutes later. “Even when you’re not here.”

“**For eternity**,” she hissed as her eyes closed.

* * *

** _Saturday, June 17, 1995_ **

** _ Slytherin Girls Dorm Fourth Year—2_ **

Eden kept her eyes closed.

She wanted to cherish the moment she had just had with Tom, and she didn’t want to wake up yet. Her eyes, however—apparently, she had no control over them anymore—flinched open when something heavy suddenly landed on her chest.

She sat up in her bed, and a goofy grin split her face as she studied it some more.

After some time admiring it, she climbed out of bed. “Eden? Are you alright?”

She looked at Pansy with her head tilted to the side. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“You’re grinning like a madwoman,” Daphne stated from her place on Millie’s bed.

The door to their dorm opened, and Ambrosia marched in before she draped herself on Pansy’s bed. “Save me! They’re _fighting_ again—hey, where’d you get that necklace?”

Ambrosia always _was_ the more observant of her friends.

All was silent in the room for a moment before, almost as if they were all one entity, Daphne, Pansy, Millie, and Ambrosia climbed onto her bed and pulled her with them. They giggled as they struggled to adjust themselves to fit. They were no longer little first years that could easily fit on the four-foot wide beds.

“Oh! Pretty!” Daphne cooed.

“Where did you get it?” Ambrosia demanded.

“That’s beautiful,” Millie commented softly.

“Where. Did. You. Get. It. You. Psychotic. Wench?”

Eden laughed at Ambrosia who was glaring profusely at the locket and pouting near-violently. “My boyfriend gave it to me,” she mumbled softly with a goofy grin as she fingered the metal. She temporarily lost her hearing due to the squeals, the shouting, and the questions. “Quiet!” she roared. “One question at a time. _Please_.”

“Me first!” Pansy insisted, “what’s his name?”

“Tom,” she shyly answered with a grin. “He doesn’t like his name though.”

“Where did _he_ get it?” Ambrosia was a jewelry aficionado and cared _deeply_ about _everyone’s_ jewelry.

“He made it for me,” she said before she started to giggle as it finally clicked what he had done. He had used the _Aether_ to make her a necklace. Granted, the Aether had terrified her at first, but still.

He made it for _her_.

Millie covered her face with her hands as she laughed, and Pansy and Ambrosia sighed and leaned into each other. “That’s so cute!” could be heard through Daphne’s squeaking.

Once the five calmed down, Ambrosia carried the conversation on, “Did you give him that snake locket you asked me about the other week?”

“Yeah. He really, really liked it. But he liked the picture I put in it more. At least, I think so. He said more about the picture than he did the locket.”

Ambrosia drew back with a hilariously aghast expression on her face. She looked like someone had just told her the Dark Lord had come back to life and killed her family. Although . . . knowing her, she would probably find it a worse situation if he destroyed either her jewelry collection or killed her kitten.

She didn’t get along with her parents, and her siblings were far older than she was, and because of that, they didn’t talk often. She was closest with her grandfather, Noah Smith.

“How old is he? Where did you two meet?”

“He’s . . . a bit older than I am. He graduated before we started school, actually. We met at Hogsmeade in Tomes and Scrolls. We had a debate on why Unicorn Tears are useful. He said they weren’t, I said they were, and after we got kicked out of the store for disturbing everyone, we exchanged contact info, and we just started talking . . . and . . . yeah. We’re dating now.”

True story—mostly (they had gotten kicked out of Tomes and Scrolls on their first—only—date).

“How long have you two been dating?”

_Since December 1944._

“Since before the First Task. He helps me train, sometimes.”

Daphne squeaked again, and Millie, Pansy, and Ambrosia all leaned on each other as they giggled excitedly. “Do you have a picture of him?”

Eden took the locket off from around her neck and handed it to her after she flicked the latch open. They all cooed at the pictures and handed the locket back.

“Have you put the usual protections on it?”

She tilted her head to the side as she stared at the pink-eyed girl. “What do you mean?”

“You know, spells to make it impossible for someone else to take it off of you. Spells to make it nearly impossible to break. Spells to make it so someone can’t steal it if you’re not wearing it. Stuff like that?”

Eden blinked as she realized she may have just gotten into a world of trouble. “Uh, no. No, I haven’t.”

She realized she had a right to be worried as she started to fear for her life at Ambrosia’s grin. “Well then, little Eden, let’s get started.”

* * *

** _Sunday, June 17, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“I can do nothing, today.”

Tom looked up from his breakfast and watched fondly as his Eden draped herself onto the back of the couch across from him. “And why not?”

“My Core,” she groaned, “it’s Drained.”

He flicked his wand and Scanned it. He frowned when the results came back and showed she barely had a little over a fifth left. “What the bloody hell happened that you used nearly all of your Core?”

“I have friends. That’s what happened.”

His eyes narrowed as the Kill List for those of her time started to grow, and plans began to expand to accommodate them. “I’m going to need more explanations, love.”

_I need to see what pain they are worthy of._

“Fine. I have nosey friends who are obsessed with you. And jewelry. That is a dangerous combination I have learned. I spent _all bloody day_ adding spells to the locket so it would be safe, all because _Sunshine_ decided it would be a _travesty_ to not have spells. And then she decided that what she knew wasn’t enough, so she drug Senny, Nee-Nee, Pansy and I to the library, and we ran into Hera, and _she_ started to help.”

His witch sounded depressingly close to tears.

At least the Kill List returned to what it was before, and plans didn’t need to be changed any longer.

“Why don’t you spend the day with Abyss? He’s been whining for you.”

She perked up slightly, and then she collapsed back into herself. “Playing with Abyss means giving him magic. I don’t think I have the energy for it.”

He smiled softly at her. “You don’t _have_ to give him magic today. He’d understand.”

“No, I want to.”

She rolled off of the back of the couch and onto the cushions. She stumbled her way over to him and tumbled onto his lap. He laughed softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He pressed his lips to hers when she tilted her head up, and he kissed her softly for a few moments. “Go be with Abyss, love. I have a meeting with the prefects, and then I’ll join you after. I’ll also inform Orion about the change in plans.”

She nodded against his neck before she rolled off of his lap and opened the trunk. His vision blurred as his mind received two images: the one of his breakfast and dorm room, and one of his Eden sliding down the railing until Abyss caught her half-way.

He couldn’t help the fond smile when, despite the Strain, she pushed a little bit of magic into the Hellhound, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly when the Hellhound took her to his den and curled protectively around her.

She was safe.

_I love you, Eden._

“I love you, too, Tom.”

* * *

** _Tuesday, June 19, 1945_ **

** _ Great Hall_ **

Tom was _beyond_ unprepared for the noise of the great hall.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast in the great hall in so long, he had forgotten how _loud_ it was in the mornings. It was no longer _natural_ for it to be that loud before 8 AM. He quickly spotted his Knights and sat down in his place as the Lord of them, and the King of Slytherin.

Abraxas yawned as he sat down to his right, and he smacked the blonde’s hand away from the pot filled with Magical Coffee. “Don’t drink that,” he said in explanation.

“But, why?” the peacock groaned. “I _need_ my coffee to function,” he wailed.

Tom exchanged a secretive, knowing glance with Noah. “Just obey me, and _don’t drink the coffee_.”

“What about tea? Can I have tea?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

He made a choked sound in the back of his throat, and for a moment, Tom thought he was going to be hexed. “_May I_ have tea?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason you can’t have the coffee.”

“Sadist,” Abraxas grumbled.

Despite the pouting and insubordination, the peacock obeyed his orders. The blonde forgave him when classes were cancelled for the day twenty minutes later due to an extreme and widespread case of food poisoning.

Tom smirked and wiped his mouth before he stood. “It’s off to the Chamber, gentlemen.”

** _The Chamber of Secrets_ **

“Alright, gentlemen, gather ‘round,” Tom started. He glanced at his watch. They only had a few more minutes before his Eden would show up, and he wanted his Knights to be prepped for what he would have them do. After all, he had prepped his love the day before, and it wouldn’t be fair if one group was more aware than the other.

Well . . ..

He did tell her that she was going to need to be prepared upon arrival . . . did that count?

It counted; he was sure.

(it didn’t)

Once all of the Knights who knew of Eden’s existence were around him, he began to speak in a soft voice. It was the voice that he knew would have them hanging onto his every word. It was the voice that would bring the world crashing to its knees begging for mercy as he reshaped it to be better than it had ever been before.

“Today, all of us are going to fight against Eden at the same time. She does extremely well against three or four of you, but today, we are going to push her.” He glanced at his watch again. “Get into positions. I do not care where. Make your Lord Voldemort proud, and remember,” his voice went sickly sweet, and some paled, “nothing you can’t _personally_ heal. I am quite fond of your future Lady.”

_My future wife._

His Knights smirked at the unspoken words before they all bowed at the waist. “Yes, my Lord.”

They rose from their bows and disappeared from his sight.

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Eden’s eyes flickered open, and she frowned as she looked around. Something was up. She turned slowly and stared at Tom. “What’s going on?”

He smiled before he stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered before he kissed her again, only deeper and more urgent than before. He brushed his tongue along the length of her own and nipped it softly to draw a mewl from her throat. He growled low in his chest and pinned her to him before he deepened the kiss and pulled away after she couldn’t breathe.

He stroked her face softly, and she leaned into the touch and kissed his palm. Her eyes flickered up to meet his through her lashes and saw that he stared at her as if she could disappear any second. His eyes flickered away from hers for a moment, and normal brain activity began to return.

He was trying to distract her.

She pulled away from his touch. “Stop that!” She smacked his chest. He laughed and kissed her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered before she forced herself to concentrate. “What’s going on?”

“I’m pretty sure that I _still_ don’t know what you mean.” He pressed a kiss against the skin behind her right ear—he was _really_ doing a good job distracting her—so she thumped him hard on the chest.

“Normally—normally we meet in—in your room—” her words cut off with a gasp when he licked her skin before he bit down harshly. “W-why are we in-in the Cha—you need to stop that right now!” He chuckled and licked her again. “Stop!”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose and before he could do as she demanded—or torture her some more—she pulled out of his suddenly loose embrace, turned, and erected a Dome Shield and shot a stunner in the same wand movement. Her stunner hit her target the same moment that Julian Mulciber’s shredding hex hit her Shield.

She spared a glance at a proud and smug Tom over her shoulder, glared at him when he winked, and was thrust into the fight.

The first conscious Knight that she laid her eyes on was Marcus Nott, twin to Theodosius, and Theo’s great-uncle. She made eye-contact with him, tilted her head to the side as he began to wave his wand, and then jumped over an electrocution hex with the aid of Battle Magick.

As she fell from the fifteen-foot height that she had launched herself to, she shot two spells. First a stasis charm—similar in strength to the Immunity Spell she had used when she was getting shot up with lightning by the wyvern—and then a bolt of pure plasma. The plasma wrapped around the sixth year who would have been turned to dust had it not been for the stasis charm.

A spell sliced her cheek, and her nose burned with the stench of blood and ozone. She landed heavily on the ground and turned to Theodosius—who apparently did _not_ like the fact that his twin almost got pulverized. Which she understood completely.

Despite their relationship, Eden would gladly, and brutally, murder anyone who killed Leif.

The dirty blonde sent a few more cutting hexes and curses towards her, and she dodged each of them with ease. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked again, and she shot a slime jinx at him and stuck him to the wall.

(out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom make his way over to him)

She turned and groaned when she saw Noah, Androtheny, and a very sluggish Marcus.

First, Noah sent a paralyzing Curse at Eden, and Androtheny aided it by sticking her feet to the floor. She was able to get a Diamond Shield up in time to be able to prevent being paralyzed for life, but she wasn’t able to block the stabbing hex cast by Marcus.

She gasped as blood began to ooze out of her side. Her magic flared to life and started to heal the wound. She sent a stiffening hex towards the boy and launched him to the ceiling where she stuck and stunned him.

She turned to Noah just in time to fall back into a table-top stretch to avoid the face-skinning curse. In that position, she wasn’t able to do much, but decided to try something that she had been theorizing with Mariea—more like Mariea talking at her while she desperately attempted to understand what her godmother was saying to her.

She took a deep breath, tightened her core muscles before she lifted her right foot and began to cast a modified Battle Spell. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and finally the spell connected. A hot blast of orange fire left the sole of her sock-covered foot and arced towards Noah. She placed a balancing charm on her hands and lifted her left foot and sent another blast of fire towards him.

She laid on the ground, kicked her legs and arched her back, and stood in time to dodge an unknown Curse from Androtheny who was on the other side of the Chamber.

She wasn’t given much time to breathe—nor was or Core given enough time to replenish her energy completely—before Noah was back on her. He jabbed his wand into her side, and she kicked him away before he could do whatever he had planned—there were many Curses, jinxes, and hexes that required body contact to work.

He flicked his wand and a tornado of sand started towards her as the incantation for the Sand Jinx left his lips. She jumped to the side, and because she wanted him out of the way—for as long as she possibly could without _death_—responded with the Sandman Jinx. He fell to the ground dead asleep, and he would stay that way for at least twelve hours—hopefully (Tom knew the Counter and seemed intent on undoing all of her progress, the sadistic bastard).

She breathed for a few seconds and unBound her Core just a bit so she could get her energy levels back faster before she turned around. She stared at Evan for a few moments, and before he could realize what was happening, blasted him away.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose again and the sweet scent of ozone filled the air. She turned, screamed, and dove to the side as two Dismemberment Curses sailed towards her. She blinked the tears out of her eyes from the harsh burn of her skin against the unyielding—and unsympathetic—stone floor. She pushed herself up and rested on her elbows as she glared at her attackers and ignored the blood dripping down her arm.

“Really?” she hissed. She blew a lock of hair out of her face.

“Really,” Abraxas and Julian replied, both stupidly smug.

The fifth year launched a deafening hex—it looked like the Ear Shattering one (he did it nonverbal, so she wasn’t too sure, but the color was a dead giveaway to it being some type of deafening thing)—while Abraxas sent a Tsunami charm towards her. She curled into a small ball in order to make the Dome Shield solid enough to dodge both spells at the same time.

The water crashed onto the Shield, and her Core shuttered at the strength needed to keep it from collapsing. “Tom!” she screamed, “I’m going to kill you!”

“Now, now, dear. We both know how hard that’ll be,” his voice echoed gently after the water dissipated.

She dropped the Shield, screamed, and instead of shooting any spells, summoned her Thorn Staff and moved into full Battle Magick mode. Her wand slipped into the holster on her right arm, and the Staff became an extension of her.

With it, she made quick work of Abraxas and Julian—she sucked half of their Core’s with Black Fire—and also made quick work of the next four assailants the same way—Amaryllis, Marcellus, Androtheny, and Amaryllis (she just wacked him on the back with the Staff instead of sucking his magic).

Once Amaryllis was on the ground in a Spider Shield, she was able to breathe for a few moments before she was forced to start fighting again, that time with Theodosius. It went quick, as he was already quite worn out, so she just guided him with blasts of fire to either side of him until he tripped and fell into the Spider Shield with Amaryllis.

She turned to her last opponents and was quickly engaged in some hand-to-hand with Orion. He wrapped his arm around her neck and pinned her back to his chest; he jabbed two fingers into the still-healing stab wound, and she gasped and gagged slightly. Tears unwillingly began to streak down her face from the sudden pain. She grabbed his arm with one hand, jabbed her elbow into his stomach, punched him in the nose, and then was finally able to throw him over her shoulder.

She shrieked when she saw a black blob shoot towards her and did the same thing to Marcellus before he could touch her.

She breathed for about a minute before she was grabbed from behind and was once more engaged in close combat with Orion. They fought viciously for three minutes—with the boy using his fists and legs, and Eden using her body and Thorn Staff—before she was able to hit the back of his neck with the Staff and knock him out cold.

She spun around in a circle on high alert. When she saw that Tom was the only one standing, she laughed softly and fell to the ground exhausted. Her hands shook from Drainage, and her vision swayed from blood loss.

Tom knelt in front of her and his hand lit with the Cure of Fire before he pressed it to her side. She gasped and leaned her head against his shoulder as the wound was cauterized, and then the skin on her left arm from where she slid was stitched back together.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he pulled away and stood. “You did well, love,” he commented idly.

She stared at him, panting, with her eyes narrowed before she rolled to the side as the Phantom Form Curse arced from his wand and towards her. She banished her Staff and pulled her wand and was only just able to cast the counter-spell in time to avoid one of the phantoms from touching her.

She stood and immediately shot the Degeneration Curse at him. He laughed slightly hysterically as the shock of such a dangerous spell being used hit them both. “I love you,” he murmured with fondness in his eyes and on his lips.

He slashed his wand, and the warm glow of his words wore off as he thrust the two of them into an intense battle exchanging Curse after Curse and both of them going on offensive and defensive every few casts.

Three minutes into the fight, she jumped to the side, tripped, and laid on the ground panting. “UnBind the rest of your Core, love.”

“Damn you, Tom,” she panted. She ignored the shocked gasps from the Knights and focused only on the slightly concerned smirk that graced his face.

“Love—” Before he could speak anymore, she unBound her Core and jumped up as the Strain faded, and the fight went on for another twenty minutes, in the same fashion as before, before she was far too injured to continue.

She laid on the ground in a bloody heap and was beyond grateful when he healed her with _Medela Aer_. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and bundled her close into his arms. “Well done, my lovely, well done.”

He kissed her again.

“You, Tom Marvolo Riddle, are an anarchistic, _evil_ human being who has a proclivity for torture, and I _hate_ you,” she mumbled against his lips.

He just laughed and kissed her again. “I know, my love, I know. I love you, too.” He turned to his Knights. “You all did well. Tomorrow, we’ll begin learning the Killing Curse. Dismissed.”

* * *

** _Friday, June 23, 1995_ **

** _ Slytherin Common Room Entrance_ **

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath.

She tried to quell the trembling of her hands as she carefully placed the Marauders Map into her magically extended shoulder bag.

She could do this.

(_I can’t_)

She was Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age.

(_hah!_)

There was nothing a few snakes could do to her that she couldn’t handle, _especially_ if what Eden, Draco, Ambrosia, and Theo said that first time, and what they and the others have said since.

(_right? Is that right? Is this smart?_)

If the House of the Pure was anything like Gryffindor, most of the Slytherin populace would either be in their dorm rooms or somewhere in the castle.

(_please let the two polar opposites be similar in this _one_ thing_)

She closed her eyes and checked her memory once more and was confidant in her plan. Eden, Ambrosia, Draco, Septimus, and Evanius had walked into the wall she stood in front of before they disappeared into the Slytherin Common Room and off of the Map.

She would _forever_ curse the fact that the Map didn’t show who was in the Common Rooms other than Gryffindor and Hufflepuff—it made sense with the self-preservation of Slytherin and the seeking of knowledge (thus the reclus behavior of most Ravenclaws) but still.

She didn’t like it because she had no idea what awaited her beyond the solid brick wall.

(_yellow brick road yellow brick road yellow brick road going to see the wizard_—)

She took another deep breath and began to mentally recite one of many passages about Slytherin House from _Hogwarts: A History_—mainly to drown out the taunting _child’s _voice in the back of her head (which she refused to admit was herself panicking)—and knocked on the wall.

Despite the stones being solid, charmed, and inscribed with muffling Runes to keep the dungeons from echoing too horribly—something they learned in the first few lessons of Ancient Runes (did all Slytherins know that fact?)—the small, hesitant knocks seemed to echo almost violently around her.

Just as she was about to knock again—she was too desperate to give up—the door slid open to reveal a tall, menacing Slytherin with the top three buttons of his umber silk shirt undone, and fitting black slacks and shiny gray shoes made of gorgeous dragonhide. It was with horror that she recognized him as the one to curse Leif after he tried to tackle Eden to the ground in early November.

She gulped and prayed to whatever deities would listen to her that his wand was needed to open the Common Room entrance, and that she wasn’t about to be put on the other end of it.

** _Slytherin Common Room_ **

“Eden, is there anything that any of us can do to help you finish preparing for the Task tomorrow?”

Eden thought for a moment and winced when Ambrosia tugged a little too hard on her hair as she finished up the braid. It was the Slytherin biweekly meeting, and the entirety of the House was there—it was strange, actually.

She unwillingly sat on Ambrosia’s lap, who was squished between Draco and Pansy, who were squished by Daphne and Millie. Evanius and Septimus sat on the ground in front of her, and Theo and Blaise sat on either side of the best friends who knew nothing of the phrase personal space—it’s why they were so close. The rest of the fourth years were scattered around the large room, sitting with their friends and family, and that was okay. Like all years, the friend groups had been split, and one part—Eden’s part—was just a bit closer knit than the other fourth years.

She shrugged lightly and tugged almost harshly on her locket. “I’m not too sure. I feel as if I’m prepared as well as I can be, due to all of the training from Sirius, and the sneak attacks that you lot have been doing with me the last couple weeks. I’m just nervous, I think.”

Snakey-Snape frowned slightly. “Are you sure?”

Before she could answer, a light jingling filled the room that indicated someone was locked out of the common room. “I thought everyone was here,” Diana hissed from next to Snake-Snape.

All of the year leaders nodded. “We are,” they all stated at once.

“Then who’s outside?”

“I don’t know, a guest?” Aeneas Crane, a seventh year Ravenclaw, helpfully pointed out from a pillow near the fireplace with his fiancée’s head in his lap.

Eden laughed softly, along with many others, as Antony smirked. “Well then, shall we see who _dares_ to interrupt the Snake Pit?”

It’s what the biweeklies were called.

Cheers left every throat, and laughter echoed through the room and scattered applause sounded from those most excited.

The King of Slytherin bowed gracefully—earning quite a few catcalls from the older years—before he shifted from the charming, playful, and lighthearted creature that he typically was, and into a horrifying beast that stalked towards the door with his wand still in his hand—firework charms were often needed to draw everyone’s attention in a non-violent way during the meetings (especially the Hufflepuffs’ attention when someone admitted to struggling either socially, academically, mentally, or, most importantly, magically).

The door slid open, and the cheers rapidly began to abate.

Antony leaned against the wall, and Eden could imagine the sly grin that stretched his lips. “Well now, look what the basilisk drug in,” Antony murmured softly. The common room fell into silence, with the only sound being the crackling fire, water lapping at the floor to ceiling windows, and the occasional shifting student—the common room was the one place that you’d find a Slytherin fidgeting. “Tell me, little lion, what brings you here?”

“I—I—I,” a vaguely familiar voice squeaked from the door.

Antony lunged forward, grabbed whoever it was, and drug them into the Common Room. Draco’s grip on her hand tightened, Ambrosia’s hold on her waist tightened, and Evanius and Septimus’ backs stiffened as everyone on or by the couch they occupied tensed when their eyes landed on Hermione.

Eden tried to stand, but Pansy’s hand on her leg forced her to stop. She nodded to Diana, and when she looked, Eden saw the playful little smiled that she and Antony would get whenever they wanted to play with someone.

“She won’t understand,” Eden hissed to Pansy—who nodded in agreement.

Despite that agreement though, she said, “It won’t go too far.”

“You don’t know that,” Ambrosia said softly, “we have too much riding on her to let her back out now. She’s meeting my grandfather this summer. He’s actually quite excited for it too. I’d have to deal with him if she backs out now.”

“Oh, tell him I say hi,” Eden interjected before Pansy could.

The short-haired girl smacked her leg. “Let them at least find out why she’s here, and then you can hyper-focus.”

Hermione’s wide, frightened eyes met Eden’s, and she had no choice but to smile and nod reassuringly at her before she was forced to kneel in front of Diana. Antony curled his fingers into the girl’s curls, and even though he made it look harsh, gently angled her head up—he had done a lot of that during second year to Eden when she thought she was going crazy when she heard Azteca in the walls.

“Awe,” the Queen cooed, “look what a sweet little present my King has brought to me.”

Tense laughed echoed through the room.

(Eden’s fondness of the lion was not a secret in the House of the Snakes)

Hermione shivered.

“I’m going to Claim her,” Eden hissed as she began to struggle in her friends’ holds.

“Don’t you dare. Let them play.”

“I was going to Claim her eventually. Let me do it now!” she grumbled as she wiggled.

Diana’s eyes flickered to Eden, and she saw a slight crack in the Mask before it was hidden, and she crouched so she was even with Hermione. She reached out and stroked a suddenly long fingernail down the younger girl’s cheek. “Tell me, my King, why is this _precious_ little Lion in our midst?”

Cat calls, though they were tense, echoed in the room again. “Please,” Eden whimpered as Hermione began to tremble.

The grips on her began to loosen.

“She didn’t say, my Queen.”

“Oh?” Diana giggled, and it was truly terrifying. Panic broke through the Mask, and the Slytherins who looked into people’s eyes to find emotions began to shift a bit more. “Oh, don’t cry, little Lion—” Only the Slytherins who _knew_ Diana heard the panic in her voice. “—just tell us why you’re here, and you may make it out alive.”

The grips on Eden loosened completely as panic broke through Diana’s Mask once more. Eden began to stand as Hermione spoke softly. “I ca-came t-to see E-E-E—”

“Spit it out, Little Lion,” Antony demanded softly in his sickly-sweet King voice.

“I Claim her.”

The room fell silent in the face of Eden’s Claim as she stood trapped between Ambrosia’s legs, and Septimus’ and Evanius’ backs.

Diana grinned sweetly as her Queen Mask faded completely. “Are you sure, little Eden?”

She nodded firmly as Hermione stared at her, and she kept eye contact with the bushy-haired girl. “I am. From this day on, Hermione Granger is safe from all Slytherin Plots, Games, Powerplays, and Jokes.”

Antony smirked and stroked Hermione’s hair—Eden noticed the girl lean into the touch slightly. “You heard our little hellion, Snakes. From this day on, Hermione Granger is an honorary Slytherin, is to be protected as such, and treated as family.”

Cheers rang through the room as a swath of sheer red and gold fabric appeared on the ceiling to indicate another member of Slytherin House. It stood out amongst the sea of green and silver, but just like the swaths of blue and bronze, and yellow and black, it blended seamlessly, just as she would blend seamlessly into the House of the Pure.

Diana reached out a hand and helped Hermione up. “I’m sorry about that, luv. It’s just a game that we enjoy playing with guests during the biweeklies, and it just so happened that you were the victim this time. Please don’t hold any hard feelings against little Eden, she tried to get to you, but she’s kind of trapped.”

Eden sheepishly waved to the girl who laughed softly. “It’s fine.” She took a deep breath, nodded, and then looked around the room at the 259 Slytherins, and 17 honorary Slytherins. “You’re all here?”

“Yep.” Antony slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side as he began to guide her over to Eden. “Every two weeks we have a House meeting to go over issues, announcements, and other items of great importance which are to remain private. Now that you’re one of us, you’re invited to the meetings.”

Septimus and Evanius slid over to Hermione could be nestled on the floor in front of Eden who had been pulled back onto her mostly human seat.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly.

Hermione nodded and exhaled shakily. “Yeah, I wasn’t—I wasn’t expecting all of you to be here.”

Eden smiled and patted her head. “I bet this is a shock. Anyway, why _did_ you come?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Oh?” Snakey-Snape started, “and what would bring a Little Lion like yourself here to the Snake Pit without protection?”

“Who said I wasn’t protected? Eden and I have become quite close in the last month.”

“It’s true.”

“Hey,” Draco whined, “you forgot about me!”

Ambrosia, Pansy, Daphne, Millie, Theo, Blaise, Evanius, and Septimus agreed with his sentiments loudly. “I mean, we meet up twice a week and make parchment animals, and do homework together, and talk, and hang out!”

The girl blushed, and the room laughed. “Back to the reason that I’ve come here. I came here to teach Eden a spell I created to help her with the Task. I’ve only just finished it.”

“You created a spell? And you want to teach it to me?”

“Yes.”

Eden couldn’t help the silly grin that crossed her face as she perked up.

“What do you want in return?” Electra Digby, a sixth year Slytherin demanded.

Hermione and Eden both frowned as they stared at her. “Why would I want something in return?”

“That’s Slytherin for you, babe,” Evanius commented lightly before he started to play with her hair, “a favor for a favor.”

Hermione nodded, and for some unfathomable reason to Eden, she looked unbearably sad. “An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.”

“A life for a life,” Antony finished the saying, and he too, looked ethereal in his sadness.

All was silent as Hermione processed everything that had happened in the last ten minutes.

“Y’all are messed up people,” Emily—an American muggleborn transfer student who was in Hufflepuff—stated with an eyeroll. “It’s all doom and gloom with you lot.”

Eden’s lips twitched. Emily had been stuck between using the slang she grew up with, and the slang that she had been surrounded by for the last three years, for the last few months.

Most of the students found it to be endlessly entertaining, especially whenever Emily brought attention to it, which she did often.

“It’s all we have to protect ourselves with,” DeNovell Quinn started sadly, “it’s how we were raised, as most of us won’t go into some easy paper-pusher job at the Ministry, or some shop, we’ll be going into politics, and sadly, not even _normal_ politics. It’s the hard-cutting _gentry_ politics where one wrong move means your _entire_ family is disgraced for generations. And in a world where family is everything, it’s a daunting task.”

“Most of us in this room will spend the rest of our lives trying to get the Olde Ways legalized once more the second they graduate.”

“Slytherin works in the way of an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, so we’re prepared for the future we’ll be forced to face.”

“Although, all problems that are had while we’re in school can’t be taken into the political ring. So, it’s practice, and a time for us to make lasting relationships.”

The debate continued on peacefully between the older Slytherins and honorary Slytherins, and while it did, Eden stood and pulled Hermione to her dorm room, with their friends following after them.

** _Slytherin Girls Fourth Year Dorm—2_ **

The group of eleven stepped into the room, and Eden’s eyes immediately catalogued the changes that had been made to the dorm due to her Claim of Hermione. Another desk and wardrobe had been added against the wall with the door—the wall nearest Eden’s bed. And next to her bed, was a comfortable looking cot—more like luxurious bed that was two feet wide, six feet long, and two feet tall—that would only appear when Hermione would be in the room.

“I thought there were more girls in your year,” Hermione commented, slightly confused, as Pansy led her over to the cot and forced her to sit down on it before she started to do her hair.

“There are,” Ambrosia started as she flopped onto Eden’s bed and shoved her head onto Eden’s lap. Draco climbed on the bed behind the two raven-haired girls and leaned up against the headboard and began to doze off—he hadn’t been sleeping well the last few days (it was often that Eden would wake up to him sitting next to her bed staring at her). “It’s four to a dorm up until fifth year when we get our own rooms.”

Hermione gaped. “There’s enough space for that? Wait, if it’s four to a room, why are there five beds?”

“Well,” Pansy started, “there’s magic, and on top of that, we have the entirety of the dungeons to work with, bar the Potions Rooms, Ritual Rooms, Prayer Rooms, and Ceremony Rooms. The reason why this room has five beds is because Eden Claimed you. She’s become responsible for you in the house—kind of like a guardian. Because of that, whenever you need a safe place, either from Gryffindor, or your friends, or if you just need somewhere you can be yourself without worry of consequence, you’ll always have a safe place here.”

Hermione froze with her mouth slightly open, so Eden tried to distract her. “The four to a dorm rule didn’t come about until the early eighty’s when _tata_ began to teach. Fifty years ago, it was common for every house and year to have anywhere from ten to thirty students to a dorm because Hogwarts housed 1,500 students at the time instead of just the 1,000 it houses now a days.” She paused for a moment as she remembered the slightly cramped—only because so many people in one room was cramped—dorm when Tom still shared with other students. “I can only imagine how awful the towers must have been, especially since with what you said, they don’t seem to use magic to expand the rooms.”

Hermione nodded absently. “I’m lucky. There are only three girls in my year in Gryffindor, but the room is still fairly small. The boys’ dorm is so crowded that the only things in there are the beds and the boys’ trunks.”

“Where do they study?” Theo demanded aghast.

“They don’t,” the Lion scoffed, “but, whenever I _am_ able to convince Ron, Leif, and their closer friends to study, they do it in the library or common room.”

“Funny,” Blaise started as he ran his fingers through Millicent’s hair, “I always imagined the Gryffindor Common Room to be obnoxiously loud—too loud to study in.”

“Oh, it is, trust me.”

“Then how do you study?”

“I personally use silencing wards, or ear muffling charms, but the others don’t, and they almost always end up getting distracted. Ouch! Too hard!”

“Sorry,” Pansy mumbled sheepishly. She nodded to Daphne. “Come freeze this for me so I can untangle my Heir Ring.”

The room was bathed in comfortable silence for a while as they all relaxed. “Hey, in exchange for you teaching me that cool spell you created, I’ll teach you one that I created. It’s kind of lame, and has no real use, but it’s really, really fun to cast, and it can be done wandlessly and nonverbally.”

Hermione perked up from where she had been scanning Daphne’s bookshelf from her cot. “You created a spell? What does it do?”

Eden held out five fingers, whispered the spell—_fulgor_—and the tips of her fingers lit up with her beloved glitter sparks—they were red and gold instead of the usual green.

Hermione laughed and stared at them. “You _have_ to teach me that.”

“Alright, after you teach me your spell, I’ll teach you mine—wait. Which one do you think is harder?”

“Yours most definitely.” Hermione turned on her cot and faced Eden fully, and she pushed Ambrosia off of her.

“Go find someone else to laze about on, you weird cat person.”

“Meow, rawr, _hiss_,” the girl cooed—she had started out seductive and ended murderous. Eden just waved her away. The pink eyed girl rolled elegantly off of the bed and moved over to the dog pile that was Theo, Blaise, Daphne, and Millie. She shoved her head between Theo’s hand on his thigh as she draped her legs on the pretzel that was Blaise and Millie.

Eden fondly rolled her eyes. “Right. So, this spell you created. What does it do again?”

Hermione smiled softly and giggled before she focused back on Eden. “It’s a fairy-light guidance spell mixed with a locator charm. What you do is put your wand flat on the palm of your hand, and while you’re thinking of the object that you want to find, you say _point me_,” she explained.

“Makes sense. Can you show me?”

Hermione nodded and pulled a book out of her bag and placed it on the end of Pansy’s bed—who then decided that it would make a wonderful footrest—and stood in the center of the room. She held her vine wand in her hand, clearly stated the incantation, and her wand lifted and spun around on the palm of her hand three times before it pointed towards the book with a bright periwinkle light on the tip of her wand. She twisted her hand after a moment and wrapped her fingers around the handle and the light faded. “The brighter the light is, the closer to the object you’re looking for,” she explained, “now it’s your turn.”

Eden pulled out her holly and phoenix feather wand and placed it flat on her palm and thought about what to look for while Hermione silently retrieved her book from Pansy’s bed. She stood next to her, and a flash of light from Daphne’s bed gave her the perfect idea.

She took a deep breath and stared down at her wand as she spoke. “_Point me_.” Her wand did nothing for a moment before it started to slowly spin against her skin. It spun once before it stopped. “What am I doing wrong?” she asked calmly—even though she wanted to whine (Tom had taught her better than that with all of the high-level spells he had taught her in the last few months).

“You’re not doing anything wrong. Just try thinking solely about the object you’re searching for and try again.”

Eden nodded, tugged on her locket before she tried again. “_Point me_.” Her wand lifted from her palm and spun twice before it fell back into her palm. She frowned slightly but cleared her mind once more. _Septimus’ Heir Ring_. “_Point me_.”

The wand lifted off of her palm, spun three times, before it pointed towards the bed as a bright—not as bright as Hermione’s—periwinkle light lit on the tip. “You did it!” Hermione cheered.

The room was filled with happy cheering before Septimus lifted his head from his arms and glared. “I was sleeping. What did you do to wake me?”

“Eden cast the spell, grumpy,” Draco groaned softly. “Hey, Amber, did you get that letter that was left for you?”

“What letter? When did you get a letter that was delivered to the Common Room?”

“It was yesterday.”

“Why did you get one to the Common Room?”

Eden giggled as Septimus kicked Evanius as he tried to get comfortable on the too small bed to go back to sleep. Evanius, ever the saint, just kicked his best friend back and continued to read.

“I was late coming back from my private lessons.”

“You have private lessons?” Hermione questioned innocently.

Ambrosia breathed deeply as she seemed to have some sort of inner debate before she nodded. “Yeah. I have something that I think is called dyslexia. I’m not too sure though. Most Pureblooded children are checked over and have spells cast on them in the womb to prevent that kind of thing, but because of my creature blood, we couldn’t do it without risk of losing my eyesight.

“I have glasses spelled to help, but they give me really bad headaches, so I only wear them when I have to study, and that’s only when I study alone that I wear them. Three times a week I have private lessons with Filch.”

“What do you do in them?”

“For about fifteen minutes we work on my alphabets—English and Ancient Runes—and then we work on the lessons that I didn’t understand that well because I had too hard of a time reading it. He also gives me my written assignments in Latin since I can read that just fine. He found me our defense book in third year in Latin, actually.”

“Filch knows _Latin_?” Hermione demanded.

“Yeah. He went to a muggle university and got an Ancient History teaching degree and a degree in Latin. He was a teacher in a muggle school for quite a while before he became Hogwarts caretaker.”

“But—he hates children!”

“Not true,” Draco started, “before he became caretaker, he took a class on a field trip to Stonehenge. It was going really well until one of the children crossed into the center of the Lay Lines and disappeared. It was a chaotic mess, and he got fired from it, but that’s not what made him so bitter to kids who don’t follow the rules.” Draco’s mouth shut with an audible click.

Eden took over, as she was the only one who could actually continue the story. “What made him bitter was watching the kid get torn to pieces by the Lay Lines because he didn’t have a Magical Core to support the weight of the Magic concentrated there. That’s why there’s so many rules here. It’s an attempt to keep us safe and to prevent something from happening to us. Why do you think the Forbidden Forest is off-limits?”

“Because of all of the creatures?”

“Partially true. In the center of the Forest is where the center of Hogwarts’ Lay Lines are. It’s why the school is so sentient and powerful, even though the Wards were placed nearly a thousand years ago.”

Hermione looked shell shocked before Eden broke it by recasting the spell, and it pointed towards the door. “What did you look for this time?”

“_Tata_.”

The rest of the night was spent goofing around, teaching spells—both created, and learned from books—and laughing until they all fell asleep exhausted.

* * *

** _Saturday, June 23, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“Eden?”

Eden looked up from where she played with one of Tom’s shirt buttons—she had accidentally undone the top three and was now on the fourth (she would deny the _fact_ that she was trying to do the same to _all_ shirt buttons)—and rested her head on his shoulder. His right arm curled around her and tugged gently on her hair as his fingers slowly carded through it. “Yes?”

He smiled at her and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. “I have something for you,” he murmured.

She was confused at the slight tremor in his voice, but ultimately decided to stay away from Babble Ville. She lifted a brow. “Oh, and what is it?”

“I think I found a way for us to keep seeing each other after I graduate,” he said softly.

She tried to sit up but failed miserably due to his grip on her. “Really? How?” Would her summer finally be bearable now that she could see Tom when she slept? She could sleep all of the time. Sure, the Malfoys, Sirius, Remus, Mariea, Pansy, and Ambrosia would be worried, but she’d be able to see _Tom_.

Surely, they’d understand.

(she ignored the fact that she hadn’t told them—or anyone for that matter—about Tom)

“I’ll tell you after you win the Tournament.”

“What if I don’t win?

If she didn’t win, she would have most likely died, and they both knew that.

“Impossible. I’ve trained you. You’ll win. But, in the unlikely case that you _do_ lose, I’ll still tell you after you come back.” He stroked her cheek, and her heart hurt at the fear and hope waring in his eyes. “Think of it as incentive to win, and _live_.”

She pressed her hand against his cheek. “I don’t want to die, Tom. And you’re all the incentive needed to keep living and to do the best of my ability, Tom. I love you, so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He curled his fingers into her hair and tilted her head up and pressed an achingly soft kiss against her lips. “I love you, Eden.”

She was silent for a moment as she contemplated telling him something she had been considering telling him for the last week since he started teaching her the Killing Curse—turns out fear was a much better catalyst than hate or anger for her to be able to successfully cast it (rest in peace demonic ducks). “If I win . . . as a thank you . . . I’ll tell you my full name, and what year I was born.”

His eyes widened, and his left hand smoothed down her back and rested on her hip. “Only if you win?” he asked teasingly.

“Only if I win.”

He nipped at her nose, and the two dissolved into hysterical laughter that lasted for quite some time. “I want to show you something,” Tom murmured after they got a hold of themselves. They both sat up and wiped at their faces where tears of laughter had fallen.

“Okay.”

He climbed out of bed and moved to the trunk, drew a ten, and immediately, a puppy sized Abyss came bounding towards her.

“You’re so cute!” she cooed as she picked the Hellhound up from the side of the bed when he couldn’t get up. She held him close to her chest and ran her fingers along his back, the fine points of his spinal horns cutting into the tips of her fingers.

“**I am too small**.”

She laughed and tightened her hold on him and scratched behind his left ear next to his horn. “But this way I can hold you.” He purred softly before he shook his head.

“**I do not need to be this small in order for you to hold me**,” the hound huffed.

“But—”

“**No buts. Make me bigger, Eden**,” he snarled. She pouted and looked to Tom. He sighed before he drew his wand. “**Bigger. Bigger. Bigger. Tom—so help me if you don’t make me—a little smaller. Smaller. Bigger. Just a titch smaller. Perfect**,” he purred.

Eden wrapped her arms around the neck of the now wolf-sized Hellhound and pressed a kiss to his ear. He purred and she pushed magic into him. Tom sat behind her and scratched the Hellhound behind his ears. The Hellhound groaned and his leg started to thump into the bed. She scratched between his eyes, and something akin to a grin pulled at his lips and he leaned into her.

She stopped pushing magic into him, and he tilted his head back and licked her face. “You know,” she commented as he tried to lick the skin off of her chin, “this is much more pleasant when his tongue is this small.”

“**Deal with it. This is the only time that you are seeing me this small**.”

“Okay, I’ll deal with it,” she murmured. She wrapped her arms around his neck and scratched his face. He leaned into her, and she flinched when one of his horns poked her cheek. He laid down on her lap, and she ran her fingers through his insanely soft fur. She leaned into Tom and sighed happily.

“What’s wrong?” Tom murmured into her ear before he kissed the skin below it.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m happy. I’m with two of my favorite boys.”

He nipped her neck. “Excuse me,” he started, petulant, “I am a man.”

“Fine. I’m with two of my favorite beings. How about that?”

He fondly rolled his eyes. “Fine, you pest.”

Sometime later, which could have been an eternity or a few seconds, he cut off her yawn with a deep kiss. “I love you,” he whispered.

She grinned and ran her fingers through his mussed-up hair. “I love you, too.”

“Come back to me.”

“_Always_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it. So, I've changed Harry's name to Leif, so if you saw that because I missed when copy-n-pasting over here, that's who Leif is. Once all of In My Dreams is posted, I'll be going through and changing his name to Leif fully, so when I start posting the second part, which I finally have the new outline done on, I won't have to do it then.
> 
> The comment, ‘anarchistic evil human being with a proclivity for torture’ belongs solely to Hiccupthemagicalteapot on AO3
> 
> For the locket price, I actually looked up prices of the stones used in the necklace and wrote them down and then added the price of rhodium and white gold to it, and the price came out to be somewhere around 2.2 million USD. Or was it pounds? I have no clue. The locket scene was one of the first scenes I wrote for this—along with each Task/the resurrection and the first time Eden went back in time—thus, all of the math and stuff that I wrote on papers at 3 in the morning have gone missing or have made a wonderful home in the dump.
> 
> The following was a note that I wrote right after writing this chapter, before I changed Harry's name to Leif.
> 
> I also took extreme liberties with the point me spell. I read somewhere that there was a theory that Hermione created it for Harry for the final Task, so, I decided to do that for Eden, since she is fem!Harry. And I do get a lot of comments on that, the main reason that her twin’s name is Harry is because I liked the fact that it was a family name (kind of), and I didn’t want to come up with another name. While I adore researching names, and if I could make a living off of studying the origins of names, I would do it in a heartbeat, I actually hate coming up with names for characters. It’s quite awful.


	32. 31 The Third Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chapter you have all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to ME!
> 
> I decided that I wanted to post this specific chapter on my birthday, so I hope you all really like it. I've written it about eight million times, and have read it about double that. Despite that, there will be errors as it is late (the night before my birthday).
> 
> Sorry for the change to Leif from Harry in this chapter. I'm too tired to try and fix it. I sorry.

** _Saturday, June 24, 1995_ **

** _ Trunk Bedroom_ **

Eden felt heavy when she woke up.

It took a few moments for her to fully become aware of her surroundings after the potion fully wore off, but when it did, she groaned and shoved at the heavy weight that sat on her stomach.

That did absolutely nothing.

She groaned and shoved at it again, and when she earned the same results as before, laughter echoed softly in the room.

She sighed before she started to run her fingers through Padfoot’s silky fur. He groaned softly as she did this. When a dribble of drool landed on her wrist, she realized that she was in fact, _not_ in her dorm room bed.

Her eyes snapped open, and she was greeted with the large form of Padfoot—as expected—but also the glistening chandeliers in her Trunk bedroom. She breathed deeply to speed up the wake-up process, looked around, and saw that those whom she considered to be her real family were standing around her bed.

They moved her. While she was sleeping.

How barbaric.

Remus stood to her left, while Mariea stood next to him. On her right stood Lucius, Narcissa, and Snakey-Snape. At the foot of the king-sized bed stood Pansy and Draco with a vile smugness that radiated off of them in heady waves. She noted with no small amount of amusement that Pansy and Draco both had bloodied fingers—she assumed (knew) that they had been in another pinching match.

“What are you all doing here?” she asked in a slightly scratchy voice. She started to push on Padfoot to make breathing just a tiny bit easier. Really, it’s not like she _needed_ to breath in order to _live_ or anything like that.

When all of her weak attempts just earned her a smug dog and said dog laying on top of her—which made breathing _impossible_—she stretched her right hand out of the side and started to summon some Raw Magic. With her magic dancing on her fingers, she pressed her hand into his side, and he yelped before he jumped/was thrown off of the bed.

Sirius soon stood next to Mariea with his arms crossed petulantly across his chest. “That wasn’t very nice, pup,” he pouted.

She grinned. “You should have learned by now that sitting on me is not a Very Good thing.” He pouted some more and before he could actually _say_ anything—anything that would get him more injured—she spoke again. “So, what are you guys doing here? Why am I in my bedroom?”

“Well, you see, the Champions are allowed to spend the day with their family,” Mariea explained.

“And it’s _such_ a pity that your mother fell extremely ill, and your father wasn’t able to get work off in order to spend the day with you, and can only just barely make it in time for the Task,” Lucius started with a smirk that tugged at his lips in a way that made him look a little bit evil.

“The officials felt so bad, they’re letting us spend the day with you instead,” Narcissa finished with an equally terrifying smirk on her face.

(it seemed her parents were finally paying for the nightmare comment after she woke from the Coma)

Eden grinned and jumped out of bed, more than excited to spend a few hours goofing off with her family.

** _Quidditch Pitch_ **

Eden stretched her neck and tugged on the long-sleeved cotton turtleneck she wore while Ambrosia flitted about her head, tying her hair back into a single, complex braid that had many Magical Knots woven in it to help her stay calm and focused. She tugged on her locket through the fabric and was forced to stop when Narcissa nudged her and pierced her with a terrifying look.

The locket had been extensively charmed by Narcissa, Hermione—she had been there making sure Eden knew the _Point Me_ spell and basically panicking—and Ambrosia while she had been getting dressed and ready for the Task so she could still wear it and it wouldn’t be detected during any scans that were done on the Champions before the start. The locket didn’t have any protections on it other than what was placed to protect it, but . . . she didn’t want to risk having to take it off.

It made her feel as if Tom stood right next to her and it calmed her—although . . . the calming effect _could_ be the Knots in her braid.

She vaguely listened to the announcer and started when she heard her name. “First, Noah Potter will go—” She frowned at the name they continually insisted that they used, despite her repeatedly informing them that it was Eden.

Her magic was stopped from showing the man what she thought of his disrespect by Snakey-Snape and Sirius wrapping their hands around her shoulders. As she spent the most time with them out of the adults, they were the ones who were most aware of her magic and her extreme lack of control over it.

Once her magic had calmed, they released her, and she leaned against Draco and tried to offer him comfort. He had been pale and shaking since she had started to get ready, and she feared he was going through some flashback because of the Second Task.

“It’s going to be fine,” she murmured softly to him.

“You don’t know that,” he responded in a choked voice. “What if something happens, and you don’t come back?”

She shook her head. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Dray. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He was silent and held her closer.

She barely paid any attention to the announcer as he continued to explain the Task to the spectators. Dumbles pulled the Champions to the side and she barely kept from snorting in amusement when he told them they were their own worst enemies.

Their bodies were Scanned, and Krum got in trouble because of a ring he wore, which had to be confiscated. She was dismissed from the group after she was cleared, and Draco pulled her behind Lucius and Narcissa. Snakey-Snape, Sirius, Mariea, and Remus circled the two, and Pansy, Ambrosia, and Hermione—who had suddenly appeared with the Invisibility Cloak—shoved their way through.

Without warning, Ambrosia shoved her hand down the neckline of Eden’s shirt. She ignored Eden’s squawk, and pulled the locket out. Draco, Hermione, and Pansy covered Ambrosia’s hand and the four of them began to Pray in Latin.

“_Lady Soteria, we Pray and Beg that you keep Noah Eden Potter safe. We offer Lifeblood in exchange for her protection_.”

Hermione continued to Pray, only it was in English. “Please, Lady Soteria, grant me the strength to protect her. Grant me the honor of Guarding her. Please protect my first True Friend.”

The Snakes stared at the Lion in horror before they all cut the palms of their hands and let their blood spill onto the locket. The object soaked the blood up and began to glow softly before it faded. Instead of being healed, their hands were all wrapped with a piece of Prayer Cloth that would keep the wound bleeding until the Request was completed.

Hermione pulled her wand and held the tip up to the locket chain. “_Portus_,” she whispered. The chain glowed softly, and her forehead beaded with sweat before she herself began to glow. A moment later, the glowing stopped. Hermione wrapped her arms around Eden and held her close. “The activation key is your blood and the words True Friend.”

Eden’s eyes watered as she held the taller girl close. “Thank you,” she whispered, “truly, thank you.” She was completely shocked that she had created a Blood Key for her.

It made her infinitely grateful, and also saddened her greatly that she was so terrified of losing her, that she put her life on the line—whether she knew it or not, Hermione had offered Eden her life.

“I mean it, you know. You’re my first True Friend. Leif and Ron . . . they became my friend out of obligation, after they saved me from the troll in first year. They don’t . . . they don’t treat me that well. I hadn’t had any friends before them, so I thought it was normal until you came along and treated me like an equal. I know you probably became my friend out of obligation too, after I saved you, but . . .” she trailed off as her voice choked.

Eden tightened her hold. “Obligation be damned, Hera. Nothing in Heaven nor Hell could make me do something I don’t want to do. I have an obligation to be loyal to my birth parents, but I would sooner light the pyre than protect them, Hermione. I became your friend because I _wanted_ to. Not out of some convoluted idea of obligation.”

Hermione started to cry. “You’re changing my life, Eden,” she hiccoughed, “I’m not sure if it’s for better or for worse, yet.”

“Sweetie, it’s time to go,” Narcissa broke in.

“I only have your best interests at heart, Hermione,” Eden whispered before she pulled away, and Draco took her place. Her locket was quickly tucked back into her shirt before she was pushed in front of Sirius and Snakey-Snape once more.

She took a deep breath and tried to center herself, and Tom was thrown into the mix of thinking about her friends and family. She desperately wanted to run her fingers along the necklace. Her eyes watered, and she forcefully thought about something else, so she didn’t start bawling in front of everyone.

What would it sound like when Tom would finally say her given name?

Despite the topic change, and the attempt of distraction, anxiety ate at her. She pushed it down and away and began to hyper-focus.

She could hear the frantic shifting and sniffling of her friends still hidden behind the adults. The grass crinkled with each brush of robes.

Everything would be fine.

The hedges in front of her swayed ominously as the verdant leaves rustled in the faint wind. The sweet scent of _tata’s_ worried magic tainted the air.

She would win, and she would see Tom again. She would see Draco, Hermione, Pansy, and Ambrosia again.

Her parents would hit her again—

The canon sounded. She took a deep breath and made her way through the opening with a backward glance towards her family.

She ignored her birth father who stood next to Leif with a strange look on his face.

** _Hogwarts Grounds_ **

He watched her pass through the ledge and bit his lips and cheeks to hold back the tears when it closed behind her.

One still fell.

He prayed that his daughter would prove that she would be worth more to his Master alive than dead.

He stepped away from those around him and cast spells on their minds to make them think he was still there, and he had a second image appear in the back of his head, and an echo of the sounds around him. He started towards the exit of the property.

It was for his princess.

Maybe if he told himself that enough times, the guilt that had taken hold of his very soul that morning would finally leave him.

He would die for her.

His daughter would _not_ be dying if he had anything to say about it.

He apparated away and to his Master.

** _Quidditch Pitch_ **

To be honest, despite shaking in her dragon skin boots, choking on her fear, and barely able to hold her wand because of how bad she was trembling, it wasn’t as bad as Eden thought it was going to be. She hadn’t run into any of her competitors yet, nor any of the obstacles.

She prayed to the Olde gods that she _wouldn’t_ run into anything, but, as Sirius so enjoyed pointing out _constantly_, she had the Potter Luck.

And that sucked.

Royally.

She turned another corner and stopped. Her eyes widened. “Tom?” she whispered through a slightly choked throat.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

She took a small step back.

In front of her, tall and proud, stood the man that she loved. He didn’t look right. He was pale, his hands were covered in blood, and in them rested a still-beating heart in his hands. He lifted it to his lips and took a large bite out of it.

Against her will, she took another step back as horrifying memories assaulted her. “No.” She shook her head. “No, this isn’t real,” she chanted—begged prayed pled _demanded_.

Except . . . it _was_ real.

Once upon a time.

The heart was soon consumed—funny, it seemed to last forever when it actually happened—and a deflated lung took its place. Her legs grew week, and she stood frozen as it was devoured. The kidneys and liver soon followed. A clear goblet full of blood was quickly consumed as if he were a thirsting man in the desert.

Bile rose in the back of her throat.

“Eden . . .. Join me, my love.”

She shook her head and tried to step back once more, but her legs were still frozen in fear and vile disgust. “No,” she trembled, “you’re not real.”

“Of course, I am, Eden. Forever.” The apparition started to chant. “**I am _forever_. I am forever. Forever. _Forever_**.” The body began to convulse on the ground, and he bit his tongue as he spoke, but he was still able to hiss, “**_I am forever_**.”

And he _was_.

Would be.

Right?

(wrong)

At least, he was until he stopped moving.

Her heart ached and she lifted her wand with the spell on the tip of her tongue. Her throat was tight. Too tight too tight too tight—thick narrow ridged _broken_.

She opened her mouth, yet nothing left it except for gasping sobs—howls wails whimpers _help_—

“_Riddikulus_!”

Her knees collapsed underneath her, and she fell on her hands and knees. She pushed herself up so she crouched, and bit her fingers as sobs shook her body and the still body turned into a dancing clown. She started to tremble with violent—hysterical distraught agitated _devastating_—fear.

“Eden? Who vas zat? Vas zat a lover?”

She shook her head, stood, and ran away from Fleur and ignored her pleas that she return and talk to her.

She was stopped in her wild run when something sliced at her upper left arm and cut through the thick fabric of her shirt and deep into her skin. She fell to the ground and backed away on her elbows as tears of pain dripped from her eyes.

She looked up at the giant spider, froze, and then swore loudly.

** _Location Undisclosed_ **

“You’re back so soon, my friend.”

He swallowed and dug his fingers into his thigh to keep from crying. “You told me to come after she entered the maze. I have done as commanded, my Lord.” He bowed before the man that he had sold his soul to.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I? We still have some things to prepare for. Come.”

His Master’s magic flexed in the air, and a soft blue fairy light flickered to life in front of him. He followed the light and set up the large cauldron in the space indicated by other fairy lights. It was only after that task—arguably the most important—had been completed that his Master spoke again. “What saddens you?”

“It’s my daughter,” he choked out. He didn’t bother to hide his emotions.

“Is she well?” There was true concern in the man’s voice.

“I can only hope.”

He bowed to the man before he walked away to grab the trunk that seemed to endlessly rattle before any more questions could be asked.

At that point, all he had was hope.

** _Quidditch Pitch_ **

_What you need to do is find your inspiration._

_Tom, I don’t want to kill! Why do I need to know this?_

_I can’t let you be unprepared._

_But the Killing Curse? Really?_

It had been in a moment similar to the one she was currently in for her to find her inspiration and desire to cast the Curse.

She was surrounded on all sides, and when she turned around once more, hopelessness and fear filled her with such a visceral and violent rush that she felt nauseous. The manticore on her left lunged and she lifted her wand, unthinking, and _uncaring_ about the beast that was about to kill her.

“_Avada Kedavra_!”

A bright green light that matched her eyes perfectly shot out of her wand and into the beast. It fell to the ground inches in front of her with a heavy thud. She stopped as horror filled her when something snapped in her mind.

_ . . . screamed when she saw a large spider as it quickly crawled towards her. She lifted her hands in front of her and a bright green light that matched her eyes escaped. The light killed the spider . . .._

She hadn’t remembered.

She hadn’t _remembered_.

She _hadn’t_ remembered.

_She **remembered**_.

She had known that she had done some sort of accidental magic that had caused a prized vase to shatter, but that was it. Had she . . ..

Had she _wandlessly_ cast the Killing Curse when she was _five_?

It was impossible.

It must have—had to have—been something similar.

The Killing Curse _couldn’t_ be cast wandlessly. In fact, no _Curse_ could be cast wandlessly.

(at least she now knew the real reason why Lily had started to abuse her)

The other manticores lunged and she used the same emerald green Curse on the five of them. She then shredded their bodies with the Shredding Curse and wiped her wand free of blood and cleared the history of the spells used.

She didn’t clean her face or body of the blood.

A scream echoed in the distance, and she continued on with a weariness felt deep in her bones. She held her torn up side from the fight with the Acromantula and one of the manticores slicing her nearly in half after it died because she didn’t get out of the way fast enough—the locket had begun to glow after the manticore was on the ground and the wound had been stitched together.

She hoped her friends had blood replenishers, especially Hermione.

She held her wand flat on her palm and focused solely on the Cup. “_Point me_.” The wand spun three times before it landed on a diagonal. She groaned and had a mini fit—she stomped her feet into the ground _multiple times_—before she continued on with her quest. She followed the dull light—which neither grew stronger nor weaker—with a heavy limp. She came to a large, open clearing, and stopped and stared at the beast in front of her.

“You’ve _got_ to be _kidding_ me,” she snarled along with a few more colorful words.

The beast just stared at her and blinked twice before it opened its giant maw. She jumped to the side to avoid getting charred by the devastating flames. While the dragon was busy with the attempt to burn fire-proof plant life, she began to think and fidget with her torn and bloodied shirt and ended up accidentally taking it off.

She frowned at the fabric in her hands for a moment before she tucked it into the waistband of her yoga pants and made sure that her locket was tucked safely into the black dragonhide sports bra she wore.

She thought over all of her options of being able to get around the dragon and came up with only one solution that would potentially work.

She couldn’t fly _over_ the dragon—she had tried just flying to the Cup shortly after she _entered_ the Merlin-forsaken maze and found horrifying wards that started a foot below the tops of the hedges that would prevent something like that from happening.

She couldn’t go _around_ the dragon—fire would be a painful way to go she decided (after months of pondering)—nor could she go _under_ the dragon for the same reason.

She had to go _through_ the dragon.

She sheathed her wand before she buried her fingers in her hair. She allowed herself to panic for exactly one minute and twenty-two seconds before she took a deep breath and pulled her wand once more. She jumped to the side once more as the dragon tried to cremate her, and once the beast was suitably distracted, she began to prep.

She unBound her Core completely, and after she wiped away the single Magical Tear, dropped the Veil as well. She was already taking a huge risk by casting while wearing metal, she wasn’t going to risk there being less than enough power for such a deadly spell.

(she chose to ignore the fact that she had cast it successfully—multiple times—with less magic than she had access to with it so tightly Bound)

The bushes around her started to shake and sway with the power of her Core fully unleashed, and her braid began to float semi-serenely around her head like a bewitched snake. The gaping wounds on her side slowly started to knit back together. Her heels started to lift slightly off of the ground.

Her eyes began to glow.

She took a deep breath and basked in the strength of her Core before she began to cast. The further she got into the spell, the less the bushes shook, the calmer her hair grew, and the slower her side healed.

She touched the tip of her wand to the palm of her left hand and felt something hot and near painful inside of her start to build. She tensed in prep for the Lash-Back that she was sure was about to happen.

It was too late to stop.

Magic pulled on the troposphere, and she felt as if she were suddenly on fire. Light built within her before it escaped every pore, and even though she stayed stationary, she was convinced she was being pulled in the direction of her lightning.

A sharp wail left her throat as the light continued to build and leave her body in a pulse similar to that of a heartbeat. The lightning finally disconnected from her body, and she turned away and crouched.

Even with her back turned and her eyes pressed harshly into her bony knees—the lightning was too bright.

Even with her shoulders hunched, and her hands covering her ears, something seemed to break inside of them—the thunder was too loud.

(she was completely unaware that Sirius currently cackled at the strong and blinding blue lightning, while everyone else in her family and friend group was extremely worried)

After the spell ended—after an agonizing amount of time—she attempted to heal her ears, but was only able to get them to the point where a dull ringing was heard—at least she _could_ still hear (she would _die_ if she would have to live without ever hearing Tom speak again). She shook her head a few times and hit her ears as if she had water stuck in them, to see if that would help—spoiler, it _didn’t_—before she turned around.

The dragon was gone.

She looked around the large area to see if there was another exit she hadn’t previously noted—there was none—and looked on the ground for footprints to see if said exit was invisible, but there were none. She moved closer to where the red-scaled beast had been, and noticed a thin, yet large, pile of ash that was slowly being blown away by the wind.

“You—you—you—you—_monster_!”

She whipped around at the heavily accented voice and saw Krum. He was pale as he stood stalk still, slightly curled in on himself, while he stared at her in open horror. She tilted her head to the side and placed on her Mask. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked in an innocent tone.

Her eyes flashed slightly.

When he took a hesitant step back, she couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face, and the bushes _shook_, while her hair became entranced in a snake’s dance.

“You—you_ keeled_ it!”

Oh.

She wasn’t surprised.

She had been having issues with over-powering the stronger spells that she had learned before the Coma, and even the spells that she had learned before the Second Task—not to mention the Curses that Tom had decided were musts.

She tilted her head to the other side. “I don’t see what the problem is, _Krum_.” Her smirk widened, her eyes brightened, and her hair grew stiff with deadly intent.

“You—you—”

“It was going to hurt me,” she said in a faux innocent tone, “it was only self-defense,” she continued. “I didn’t _mean_ to kill it.” She took a step forward, her body as fluid as water.

She didn’t know it, but in that moment, she became the boy’s boggart.

“It’s a kill or be killed world, _Viktor_,” she crooned—her voice started sweet, and turned horribly violent on his name. “You understand that, don’t you?” She tightened the grip on her wand and completely belittled the soft, child-like tone she used.

He shook his head violently for a moment—the fear in his eyes made her feel as if she had just received the best present ever—hint, being in the same time as Tom while not asleep is the best present ever (even though she’s never had it before, and likely never would).

He lifted his wand, and despite the way it shook, shot the first spell.

She made quick work of the Bulgarian.

He shot a stunner; she shot a charm.

He shot a charm; she shot a jinx.

He shot a jinx; she shot a hex.

He shot a hex; she shot a curse.

He shot a curse; she shot a Curse.

He fell to the ground and gripped his head as terrified screams began to echo around the maze. The hedges rustled as creatures moved to get as far away from the squeals as possible.

Her magic swirled possessive and proud in the air around her, and she was the picture of Slytherin Confidence.

Unlike with the Nightmare—or the War Turtles, Dire Tigers, and Demon Ducks (who knew they were actually real)—she didn’t find his screams heartbreaking. She found them quite gratifying.

That was the man—no, _boy_—who had sneered at her, mocked her, _Cursed her_, never gave her the benefit of the doubt, and treated her like she was less than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes.

Payback was long overdue, and how sweet it was to finally get it.

When the begging started, she dropped the spell. If she had held it for too much longer, he would have died anyway.

She Veiled the Stain of the Curse on her Core—and his just to be safe—and locked the memory in a part of his mind that only he would ever be able to see—Noah had insisted on teaching her how to do it when he learned of her dislike of Mind Magic (she didn’t know why, but she would be forever grateful)—before she turned away from the blubbering _child_.

She removed the torn shirt from her waistband and took the largest strip and tied it around her upper arm from where the Acromantula had struck her.

She inspected her side and was disappointed to see that the only things that would probably help it would be the Cure of Obsidian or _Medela Aer_—she wasn’t entirely sure if the Cure of Glass would work, and she _greatly_ preferred the others over that one.

She groaned as she slowly lowered herself to the ground and transfigured the rest of the cloth into a long piece of thick linen. She toed off her shoes and wrapped it tightly around her right ankle before she slid the black thigh-high dragonhide boots back on over the Slytherin green cotton yoga pants.

She sat for a few minutes with the only sounds being Krum’s sobs and the faint rustling of the maze around her before she pushed herself to her feet. She limped away from the dragon’s ashes, and as she passed the sobbing student, she stepped onto his hand as she knelt next to his head. “Next time, make sure you can defend yourself against the monster before you start a fight with it, _dear_.” She stood once more, and as she walked away, kicked his nose.

The sobs behind her did nothing to make her regret her actions. She only wished that she could make the others—those more _worthy_—pay.

_Eventually_.

It sounded just like Tom.

She stroked the blood-spattered and blood-soaked locked and continued on as she tucked it back into her bra.

** _Location Undisclosed_ **

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, my Lord.” His voice was emotionless. One would never have guessed that nearly an hour prior, he had been a distraught mess.

He still was one though. It was on the inside.

The homunculus grinned. “Perfect,” he purred, “now, all we have to do, is wait.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Despite the desire—the words would become a familiar mantra—he feared.

** _Quidditch Pitch_ **

She stared at the sphinx, and before it could speak, fell to her knees and began to cry. She didn’t want to do this anymore. She wanted to be done.

No more creatures.

No more competitors—Fleur had just tried to kill her along with a pack of rapid felines.

She didn’t even _want_ the Cup.

She just wanted to go back to her friends and family and be held close by their hands. She pulled the locket out of its safe place and ran her thumb along the raw red opal.

“Why do you cry, tiny human?”

She flinched at the voice and quickly rose to her feet with her wand pointed in the direction it had come from. “_De morte uitta_!” At the last second, she was able to change the direction her wand pointed, and the Curse of Ribbons wrapped around a bush next to the sphinx. “Sorry,” she hiccoughed.

The beast sniffed. “Why do you cry, tiny human?”

“Is that the riddle?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not going to answer.”

“If you do not answer, tiny human, I will not give you a riddle, and you will be forced to find another way, a less direct way to the center.” The sphinx had a slightly Spanish accent, she noticed with awe.

And glorious sapphire blue eyes—focus!

“I just want to be done. I hurt. I’m tired. I just want to go back to my _tata_—” her voice choked. “—I didn’t even want to do this!” she cried.

“_What happens if an unstoppable force hits an immovable object_?”

She looked up from where she had crouched and frowned at the sphinx. “That doesn’t make sense. Is that the riddle? If that’s the riddle it’s a stupid riddle because it has no answer,” she moped through her tears.

She sphinx stepped to the side. “I wish you luck, tiny human.”

Her nose twitched as she finally processed the name. “Thanks . . . hey, sorry for almost killing you.”

“Go, tiny human, before I eat you.”

Eden’s breath caught for a moment before she stiffly nodded and quickly moved passed the legendary beast.

It was without a conscious thought that the Cure of Ribbons was sent at the writhing bushes.

She lost track of the turns she took and the distance that she walked, but suddenly, there was a dull light in front of her as the light on the tip of her wand finally began to noticeably brighten.

She sped up as fast as she could with her injured ankle and burning side. She laughed slightly hysterically when she came upon the Cup. The relief, pain, and adrenaline made her more than slightly unhinged as she stared at the Cup, too shocked to do anything more productive.

Footsteps reached her ears after some time—after the adrenaline had begun to fade—and she stepped closer to the prize. She turned and smiled at Cedric.

“Potter?” he demanded incredulously, “_you_ made it.”

She sucked her lips into her mouth and bit down on them as disappointment filled her. Just when she thought—the locket heated against her chest. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” He winced. “You know, this is what happens when you underestimate me. Everyone always does. My family. My brother. My professors. Even my friends.” He looked guilty. Good. “I’ve only ever met one person who didn’t underestimate me.” She stroked the heated locket’s chain. “In fact, many times he _overestimated_ me. I guess that’s what made me fall in love with him,” she murmured to herself. She took a step back, and her heel brushed against the stone podium. “I guess if you wanted to win, you should have been a little bit faster.”

She touched the handle of the Cup and was yanked away into darkness.

Cedric stared wide-eyed where the little girl—Potter—_Eden_—had been just moments before.

It wasn’t his fault that it had taken him so long. The sphinx gave him a riddle that took him twenty minutes to answer, because it had five components, and each component needed to be solved in the right order to figure out the next answer and—

He flinched when the three heads of the school apparated around him a few seconds later, just as they had been briefed would happen. Apparently one of the Champions had severe Magical Motion Sickness, and they couldn’t turn the Cup into a portkey because of that. But—if that was true . . ..

“Where’s the Cup?” Professor Dumbledore demanded after a moment, panic clear in his voice for the first time.

Cedric shook his head. “She touched the Cup . . . and then . . . then she was gone.”

** _Little Hangleton Graveyard_ **

Eden came to with a harsh pain in her stomach, and the air knocked out of her. She lay on the ground and gasped like a fish out of water as she attempted to get air into her body. The familiar nausea hit, and she pushed herself to her hands and knees and puked what was in her stomach. Black spots filled her vision, and it was only due to a nearly invisible spell hitting her from the left that she was able to breathe once more.

She breathed deeply for a moment before she scrambled for her wand and quickly stood and started to look around.

Why was she in a graveyard?

She shook her head from pain and residual nausea and pressed her right hand against her right temple. A sticky warmth registered beneath her palm. She hesitantly pulled her hand away and looked at it through swaying vision.

Whose blood was that?

Was it her own? Someone else’s? Some_thing_ else’s?

She slowly turned at the sound of a creaking door and raised her wand. It trembled in her grasp, and she’d be lucky if she could land a stinging hex with how bad it shook. She ignored the slight groan and sharp intake of breath somewhere to her left, and the faint sound of violent rattling.

“Who are you?” she demanded in a weak, unfamiliar voice.

“My dear Noah, how good it is to see you again after so long,” he simpered.

“Wormy?” she coughed. She was too overwhelmed with everything and concerned about the sleeping greenish-gray thing he held in his arms to put up a fight about the name. “What in—” She broke into a fierce coughing fit. “—what in Merlin’s name are you holding?” She gazed at the baby-like creature in horror. “Never mind . . .. I don’t think I want to know.” Her voice was raw and gravelly, and she broke into another coughing fit that had the world around her swaying with stars in her eyes. She shook her head and looked at the man. “What are you doing here? I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“I am serving my M-Master,” he informed her.

“That baby thing?” she softly asked with a sneer. It was gross. “He doesn’t seem like much of a Master to me.”

He said nothing; only looked behind her before he nodded. She turned and was greeted with a stunner that threw her back into a gravestone.

She didn’t have time to feel betrayed.

He stared at his daughter and breathed deeply before he picked up her limp form. He was going to be sick. If he weren’t as familiar with her magic as he was, he wouldn’t’ve been able to recognize her she was so covered in dirt, blood, and—was that _ash_?

“Restrain her,” his Lord commanded after he awoke.

He did as he was told, and unseen by those in his company, kissed her forehead, and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. Which of those horrid creatures had she faced while in there?

He stroked the locket-portkey that hung against her clothed chest and bit back the tears as he carefully tucked it away and cast a weak notice-me-not on it.

Once his Lord was at full power, he would notice anything stronger than _weak_.

He pressed his wand against her side. “_Vulnera Sanentur_—” Before he could start the chant, and thus the true healing of the wound, he was interrupted.

“Is something wrong? Is she giving you troubles?” Pettigrew sneered.

He stepped away and glared at the man as another apparated in. He must have cast the same spells on those around them so his presence wouldn’t be missed. He met the man’s eyes. _They know she’s gone._ He dropped the spells that kept him connected to everyone at the Quidditch pitch watching the Third Task.

“No. I was healing her,” he answered, “I assumed that she’s needed to be _living_ in order to be useful.”

He couldn’t make the words as acerbic as he desired.

Merlin, his _daughter_—

His Master spoke before Pettigrew or Crouch could.

“Well done, Severus, my most _faithful_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really hope you guys liked it. I love you, and I can't wait to read what you guys think about it. By the way, every time you guys said it was James with Voldemort, I'd cackle and dance in joy. I also really loved reading how you guys justified who you thought it was, and I loved reading those who kept switching between James and Severus, and for those who got it right, you have no IDEA how hard it was not to congratulate you.


	33. 32 The Girl-Who-Lived

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for all of the birthday wishes. It was amazing, and it blew me away, and your guys' support has been instrumental to this getting finished. So, thank you again, you will never know how much I love to read your comments and write for you guys.
> 
> Huge ginormous thanks to Mango for helping me with wording at one point, and thank you to all of you who commented, because it wouldn't have turned out this way had you not commented. 
> 
> Also, thank you to sara92 on AO3. One of your comments about twenty chapters ago helped me figure out some plot hole loops and a huge problem that I had. It took me about two weeks of thinking about how to fix it that I figured out the solution, but this chapter and the rest of the story would have turned out completely different if you hadn't.

** _Saturday, June 24, 1995_ **

** _ Quidditch Pitch_ **

“Alastor.”

Barty turned and looked at the old geezer and tried to ignore the horrid headache that thumped in his head due to the magical eye that currently jabbed into the empty space that _shouldn’t be empty_.

He hated this mission, but it was for his Lord, so he would grin and bear it.

He could only thank Morgana that it was nearly done.

“Yes, Albus?”

“Come with me.”

He followed the old fart to a corner of the pitch. “Did something happen? I thought one of the Champions got the Cup?”

The man inclined his head. “Noah Potter did. She’s been taken.” Glee filled his bones, and it was near impossible to not smile. His Lord would be proud of him; he did not smile.

“How?”

“Someone turned the Cup into a portkey. I’ve tried Tracing it, but someone hid it very well. It took her to just outside of the school grounds, and then to three other places before I lost the Trace.”

And it had been bloody hard to do that too. “What are you going to do about it?”

An antique silver brush with a few strands of long black hair was pushed into his hands. “Take Severus and find her. I don’t care what you do to do it, but _find her_, before Voldemort uses her to get to Leif.”

He bit his tongue to keep from hexing the man at the disrespect. “I will, Albus. Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

“Thank you, my old friend. Truly, thank you.”

He turned and started to limp away from the Headmaster. “I don’t know how to protect Leif if Voldemort uses his sister against him.”

He let his face curl into a sneer.

If only the old fart knew.

** _Little Hangleton Graveyard_ **

Everything swayed when Eden’s eyes flickered open.

There was as harsh ringing in her ears that was simultaneously low-pitched and high-pitched. Something oozed down her left hip, and down the right side of her face. Her magic was Bound tightly within her—like usual—but the air _reeked_ of sweet ozone.

She mentally Scanned her Core, and even though she had about two-thirds left, she still felt as if she were completely Drained, or, if _not_ completely, about to _be_ Drained.

She closed her eyes tightly and groaned softly when the world tilted to the side. Her head tipped forward and her throat pressed against a smooth stone pole. Her eyes flickered open once more, and on either side of her body were stone hands. She figured she must be pinned to one of the statues in the graveyard.

How . . . _pleasant_.

The ringing dulled to the point that it was barely worth paying attention to, and her focus shifted to the nausea that currently pounded through her veins. She coughed, gagged, and saw stars. Her knees weakened with the force, and she would have fallen to the ground beneath her had it not been for the pole pressed against her neck. Granted, it cut off her air supply, but still. It was a huge plus to not fall into the open grave in front of her—at least, she thought it was an open grave.

She wasn’t too sure what was going on yet.

A spell hit her from her front of her, and her legs straightened before her knees locked. Her head tipped forward as the world swayed again. She clumsily broke the spell on her legs, which caused a painful pop, and a deep scratch to form next to her knee. Her knees unlocked and the world stopped tilting, but she was still beyond nauseated.

She looked down at her hands, and her right hand started to glow with a gentle red heat until the tips of her fingers had small yellow flames. She pressed the tips to the deepest part of the gash from the eight-legged spawn of the devil and groaned softly when she pressed the palm against the semi-healed gash from the manticore. She _hated_ the Cure of Fire, but it was the only healing spell that she knew that she could cast on herself without having full movement of her body.

“What did she just do?” The words didn’t process in her head, and she pressed her now-cooled right hand against her forehead. She pulled it away and was pretty sure at that point, that the wet blood on the heal of her dirty palm was in fact her _own_ blood.

She wasn’t going to risk scarring her face by healing it with anything _other_ than _Medela Aer_ or Cure of Obsidian—while she wasn’t truly vain, she would do almost anything to prevent scars forming on her face.

“She healed herself.” _Tata_.

The betrayal raced through her once more as she choked on her despair. What was going on?

“I thought you said that you healed her,” a whiny voice hissed. _Wormy_.

“He must have just missed a spot, lighten up, Worm-Boy.”

Who was that?

She forced her eyes open once more and tilted her head back and saw three men staring at her. _Tata_, Wormy, and a thin man who seemed to have the same nervous tick that Crazy-Face had with licking his lips. The new arrival now held the baby-thing that Wormy had been holding when she arrived.

“Good,” a weary, sleep-filled high-pitched voice spoke. Cold shivers shook her spine, and she pushed her back against the stone monolith that held her captive. “You’re finally awake, Noah. Let us now begin.”

Before she could protest her dislike of her name, the men stepped away from the foot of the open grave. The creature was held over the cauldron, and she adverted her gaze and closed her eyes. “I want her to watch.”

Dammit.

With those horribly sibilant words, her head was forced forward, and her eyes were spelled open. She watched in terror as the thing was dropped into the simmering cauldron. She was able to advert her gaze—thank _Circe_ for that—and decided to try and be somewhat productive, so she started to look for her missing wand.

Her attention was diverted from her search when something glimmered in her peripherals. Never before had she cursed her obsession with anything that glittered more than she did in that moment. She couldn’t help herself and glanced towards the cauldron and watched Wormy reach into a small container with a glittering, silver chain, and pulled out what looked like a lock of dark colored hair.

She adverted her gaze and attention once more, and instead of looking for her wand—surely she could do whatever would be needed without it—looked for an escape route. She wasn’t the best (compared to Tom) when it came to wandless magic, but she could manage until she could cast the spell to summon her wand to her when she was back at school and had access to _tata’s_ wand—wait.

Oh.

Despair ate her.

Right.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and began to count the amount of escape routes. She counted five direct, three indirect, and one that would be completely useless unless she was running from someone, when she was stopped.

She met Snakey-Snape’s sorrowful eyes, and she couldn’t help but look at the dagger in his hand that _reeked_ of ozone. “_Tata_?” she whispered, “what’s going on?” she begged of the man who stood on a conjured stone over the open grave.

“I’m so sorry,” he begged.

“What did you do?”

He swallowed. “I saved you.”

Wormy snickered, and Tongue elbowed him in the stomach. “Who was that? Was that the Dark Lord?” When he nodded—Wormy whimpered when Tongue hit the back of his head—a sob tore out of her throat. “_Tata_, I was _joking_ when I told you to resurrect him.” She ignored the gasps behind her father-figure.

He lifted his free hand, and shakily stroked her cheek, and she leaned into it. He wiped away her tears, and pressed a kiss to her forehead—figures, even on a statue he was still taller than her. “I had already started before we had that conversation. I had to get you out of the Coma, and he helped me. I figured if anyone would know anything about it, it would be him. I followed the signs, and I was right. He had a working theory and recipe for a potion that would jumpstart your magic into thinking you were in danger in the Coma. We worked on it for nearly a month before we deemed it ready. I am so sorry that I did this, my darling daughter. I did it for you.”

She lifted a filthy hand and pressed it against his face. “It’s alright, _tata_. I forgive you.”

He smiled a soft—bitter stinging mournful _heartbroken_—smile. “I don’t think you will.” He bit his cheek. “I’m fulfilling my end of our bargain now.” He pulled his hand from her face before he lifted the knife.

No matter what he did, she’d forgive him.

He saved her.

He adverted his eyes from hers and lifted her right arm. He cast several cleansing charms on it and her hand—she found it strange that he focused on her thumb the most—and rubbed his thumb along her Ring before he dug the knife into her forearm as he spoke.

The moment the knife touched her skin, fire, more visceral and painful than she had ever felt before began to burn in her arm. The moment her blood was drawn, it flushed through her veins with a dizzying speed, and her vision spun as bloody bile stung the back of her mouth.

No, no, no—please, no. _Stop_.

“_Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken_.”

He held the knife in the cut for a few seconds as blood pooled on the Dark knife and trickled down her arm. The blood stopped at her wrist, where he held it, and he stepped back. The blood began to ooze down her hand. He shot a Light Gray healing spell at her arm, which only healed it half-way. Her head tilted slightly. He refused to look at her before he stepped off of the stone and walked away as it melted back into the monolith.

Something grew taut in the air, almost as if it were a warning, telling them to stop.

Goosebumps prickled on her arm.

_Tata_ held the knife over the cauldron and tilted it.

Anger—similar to when Tom Promised he’d never hurt her—filled the air.

Her blood slipped off of the knife.

She felt she was about to choke as whatever stirred in the air tightened once more.

Her blood landed in the bubbling cauldron.

The moment that the two liquids mixed, the air seemed to explode, and something tightened in her chest, right above her heart. Visions of royal purple, blood red, and ocean blue filled her eyes, and a pounding filled her ears.

The Aether.

Her breath caught in her throat as a voice began to speak. It was a voice she had heard only a few times before, but never had she heard it as clearly, or as loudly as she had in that moment.

It was angry—as was to be expected by the swirling and raging colors around her—it was a loving father’s voice. It was as gentle as an early spring breeze, but had a harsh edge, like a bitter blizzard. It had a warning of fiery wrath, hidden below the surface of a sparkling stream deep in the Autumnal Woods found in the heart of Faerie Land.

It was _heartbroken_.

_If the one who loves you, calls you his enemy, my child, my precious daughter, then he shall be Punished for his foolishness._

Fingers ran through her hair and unbound it. It tumbled over her shoulders and into her face. Even though she knew she was being held by some statue or other, she felt warm arms wrap around her and a kiss land on her forehead.

The voice spoke once more, only it had changed into something she imagined one of the Olde Kings would have sounded like. _Let it be Known to All, that a Price has been Paid_.

The voice echoed, and she somehow knew that the Aether had just spoken through all of Time and Space.

The words made no sense to her, and the tight feeling in her chest tightened to the point that she cried out in pain.

It snapped.

A soul-shattering, wailing _shriek_, and gasping sobs—more like screams begging for relief—left her throat. She felt simultaneously lighter and heavier. She felt as if a key part of her very existence was gone—absent vanished faded _missing_.

A kiss was pressed to the top of her head, and her vision cleared. She was once more back at the graveyard, and _tata_ pulled the knife away from the cauldron before he wiped it on his robes and threw it far away from him with a look a pure disgust on his face.

_Did it not happen? Was I hallucinating? Or did it happen, and time just stopped here?_

(she barely registered the fact that she seemed to be reenergized, and the burning from healing herself was gone)

She twisted her aching arm and met Snakey-Snape’s eyes, and smiled softly as she inclined her head—her unbound hair fell into her shoulders (so it did happen). He seemed to stumble for a moment before he, too, nodded with a relieved smile on his face.

She took a deep breath and tried to recall what she had been doing before her blood was stolen. A familiar warmth blossomed on her hand, and the strange Aether-vision was forgotten as the actions of her father before he cut her made sense. She tore her eyes away from the gruesome and horrifying sight in front of her. She hid a smile behind her hair when the fire died and silence reigned. She kept her eyes adverted, and when the spells keeping her eyes and head hostage released her, looked down at her hand.

She had a plan.

It was dangerous, and probably-most-likely wouldn’t work, but it was a plan, nonetheless.

She quickly mapped out her escape route before she glanced up to see if she was in the clear. In the once semi-empty clearing were now ten men in robes and pointy hats, Snakey-Snape, Wormy, Tongue, and a tall, bald man who looked to have pale blue skin—it could have been gray, or even white, and the horrid lighting of the dying sun made it seem blue.

Blue Man—that _must_ be her executioner: Voldemort—was talking. It appeared that he was mainly grandstanding and chastising the men in robes. She wasn’t entirely too sure what he said due to how quietly he spoke.

She met the eyes of Snakey-Snape, and he minutely nodded as the Dark Lord began ripping masks and hats off of people. She glanced around at the other men, and accidentally met the eyes of Noah Smith. He smirked and twitched an eyebrow at her, and she knew that he knew she was a time-traveler. She couldn’t help but pull a face at him, and he chuckled softly before he fondly rolled his eyes. She pulled her eyes away from him and met a silvery gaze.

Lucius.

“My Lord,” he spoke. His eyes never left hers, and a deep fear filled them, “why is the girl here?”

Voldemort turned towards her and spoke. “This, my friends, is the _real_ child who defeated me those thirteen years ago.” She shivered at his weak voice, and he smirked before he walked towards her. She bit her lip and flinched away and hit her head on the statue behind her when a cold hand touched her own. Her hair fell into her face as she began to manipulate her magic, and she grinned through it when he pulled back with a hiss. “She’s quite powerful as well.”

He was impressed.

Oops.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she tried to bite him, and he chuckled before his attention was moved towards her still bleeding arm. He grasped it, and before she could force him to let go, healed her, and then he walked away and continued to speak with his followers.

She tuned out of the conversation and transfigured her thumbnail into a knife point and cut the side of her pointer-finger. Snakey-Snape somehow got everyone’s attention on him, and Lucius did the same. It was almost like a game of Quidditch the way they rapidly switched and worked off of each other to keep attention away from her. She smeared the blood against the Ring as she returned her thumb back to its natural state. She disappeared from view and wandlessly healed her pointer finger.

Lucius and Snakey-Snape seemed to both breathe a sigh of relief.

She pushed against the stone staff, and when that did _absolutely bloody nothing_, pulled her chin and neck back as far as she could, and turned her head to the side.

She slowly bent her legs and held her breath as her cheeks scraped harshly against the stone on either side of her face. She lifted a hand and held onto the staff, and her cheekbones wailed with pain, and then she was free. She breathed for a moment and waited until her eyes stopped watering before she slipped off the statue. She expected to sink a foot, maybe a bit more, and then be on the grass after she let go of the staff.

Nope.

She had forgotten about the open grave because _Voldemort_ could walk on air. Because _Snakey-Snape_ conjured stones to stand on.

_Because she was so scared, she didn’t know what to do with herself_.

She landed in the open coffin and heard Snakey-Snape once more drag attention to himself, and the verbal game of Quidditch began once more with Noah joining the bat and the peacock along with another voice she didn’t really recognize. Eden bit her lips to keep from screaming or vomiting as she stared at the skeleton next to her and let a few tears and quiet whimpers escape as blood flooded her mouth.

She carefully stood, whispered a near-silent apology, and then climbed out of the coffin. She shakily stood on the edge of it and put her hands on the grass and jumped up. She used Battle Magick to give her arms and legs more strength, and when her feet silently hit the grass, used it to silence her footsteps.

She stayed curled at the edge of the grave for a moment and let silent tears shake her body for a short while before she slowly pushed herself to standing and moved from the grave.

She did her best to not trip, but Potter Luck struck, and she tripped over a rock, and when she heard someone speak and approach her, hastily crawled behind a nearby headstone. She put her hands over her mouth, grimaced, and then swiped invisible hair out of her face before she put them back over her mouth.

She didn’t like eating hair.

Footsteps stopped next to her, and she stopped breathing all together. “There’s nothing here. It must have been a bird hitting something.”

“Come back here, Noah.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The feet next to her turned, and the stone next to her was kicked softly before faint words hit her ears. “Get out of here, Eden. He doesn’t know it’s you.” What the _hell_ did that mean? “He’ll kill you before he figures it out.”

What the hell did _that_ mean?

Before her will to stay hidden broke and before she could demand answers, the older man left, and she slumped with quiet relief, and raging confusion.

She needed to forget about crazy, middle-aged men and focus on getting out of the graveyard. She moved from behind her hidden stone and made it three more headstones towards the cup before she realized that sneaking about without her wand wasn’t ideal.

She leaned against the current headstone and pressed her face into her knees and tried to deal with how hopeless the entire escape-from-crazy-blue-psychopath was without her wand. She began to cycle through numerous ideas and plans, hopes and dreams before she realized that they all focused on one thing.

Her wand.

She opened her eyes and stared at a dead mouse hidden at the base of a large hulking angel statue and thought. She would find her wand, or _any_ wand—she wasn’t picky at that point—and she’d get out of the graveyard, go back to school, try and forget that the whole thing happened, and try to get Lord Smith some therapy—because _clearly_ there was something wrong with him.

She nodded firmly before she stood and began to creep around the graveyard and quickly started to lose all hope. There was no wand in sight that wasn’t being held by someone else. She moved towards the men, and towards the Cup to see if her wand would be over there, since that was the last place she remembered having it.

She walked behind Lucius, and because she was a clingy little thing, poked the palm of his hand. His Mask was impeccable—as always—and he didn’t flinch. The only sign that he knew she was there was the curling of his fingers around her own. He squeezed the digit tightly, as if he were trying to convince himself that she was there and okay.

She wasn’t okay, but she would be.

She pressed her head against his back, and his tight muscles relaxed slightly. He squeezed her finger for about a minute longer before he let go slightly. He grabbed her hand and manipulated her fingers into pointing towards Snakey-Snape, with a slight incline of his head.

She nodded against his back, peaked out from behind him, and made a hesitant and hasty decision to cut through the clearing while the Dark Lord tortured Gregory’s father. She pulled away from him fully and tapped his left elbow as she slipped around him, and he made a choked sound in the back of his throat. She quickly crept across the clearing and stopped when Voldemort suddenly turned and walked back into the center.

Right where she was.

She swallowed and held her breath as he stopped inches in front of her. “Noah, I’d like you to continue your work in Dark Healing Magicks,” Voldemort spoke as she slowly started to walk around him. “I’ve been reading what you’ve done so far, and I’m very impressed.”

The man bowed. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Voldemort turned to his right—the side she was slipping around—and she had to hold her breath and take a few steps backwards when he walked forward as he began to talk to Septimus’ father, Octavian.

He stopped close enough to her that she felt his breath brush against her hair when he looked down and chuckled softly under his breath.

Why were they talking about careers? Shouldn’t they be talking about blood, death, and mayhem?

She shook her head, and stepped back, and accidentally bumped into Noah. “Careful, Eden,” he murmured so softly she thought he imagined the words. Voldemort lurched forwards, and she panicked and jumped over his head with Battle Magick. She landed softly on the ground behind him and continued on her way towards Snakey-Snape.

She stood in front of him and tugged on his robes lightly. He visibly slumped as a breath of relief brushed against her forehead. “Get out of here,” he whispered, barely audible.

“Can’t. Wand,” she whispered.

He tilted his head back, so it looked like he was looking down his nose. She got the message. She grabbed his hand, squeezed it, before she moved behind him.

She had just let go of his comforting fingers when a shout rang out from Vincent’ father. Traitor. “My Lord! The girl! She’s gone!”

She flinched, and stood behind Snakey-Snape for a moment, pressed against his back with her right hand wrapped around his.

“What?” the Dark Lord hissed, “where is she? Where could she have gone? **Find her**!”

Snakey-Snape stepped back and forced her away from him, and her thumb scraped against the palm of his hand and she stepped away from him. Suddenly afraid that her Ring had been cleaned, she squeaked softly and ran behind a crumbling headstone and hit her head against it as she slipped on the damp grass.

She couldn’t help but think that Tom would either be right next to her laughing his head off, or he would be maiming everyone in the graveyard, despite her fondness for most of them.

She looked down at her hands and was beyond relieved to see that she was still invisible.

“_Thank you, Lady Soteria_,” she whispered.

The locket against her chest warmed, and she debated the usefulness of activating the portkey. On one hand, she’d be out of danger, and with Hermione and her family again. On the other hand, there was the lack of wand, Snakey-Snape and Lucius could potentially be tortured for her escape, and once more, the lack of wand.

There was also the fact that Hermione had created a Blood Key. It was a portkey that was not only activated by blood, but also created by blood. Most Blood Keys were only used in the direst of circumstances and . . . they often resulted in death.

_Alright, new plan. I can do this_.

She’d get her wand, and get the Cup, and then she wouldn’t have to use the portkey which would most likely draw too much magic from Hermione, and she refused to have the death of the girl on her hands.

Afterall, the gods never did anything without Payment.

She peaked out from the headstone and saw the man—creature? (thing)—move towards the open grave, and something finally clicked: If that truly was Voldemort, and she believed that it was because _tata_ wouldn’t lie to her about something like that, why was _she_ there? Where was Leif? _He_ was the Boy-Who-Lived.

Wasn’t he?

_This, my friends, is the _real_ child who defeated me those thirteen years ago_.

She was freefalling, and no one was there to catch her. He was lying. He _must_ be mistaken. She and Leif were nearly identical when they were babies, and even up until they turned three and Lily forced him to cut his hair. The only difference between the two of them at those ages was how their parents dressed them—oh.

She started to hyperventilate as everything she knew started to not make sense anymore. She rapidly looked around her while Lucius, Snakey-Snape, and even _Noah_ started steering others to the other side of the graveyard. She bit her tongue and frozen when she saw a wand only a few feet to her left.

She crawled to the wand and cried out with relief when she saw it was her own holly and phoenix feather wand. When one of the Death Eaters heard her, she covered her mouth and hid behind a different headstone a few feet to the left.

She looked at her visible wand that shook and silently cursed the fact that it hadn’t been on her body when she turned invisible. She dropped it as the Death Eater stood over her. She rested her aching head back against the headstone and ran through all of the spells that she could cast that would create a big enough distraction for her to be able to get away. The Death Eater left at the call of Lucius, and she breathed a sigh of relief and continued to think.

She knew she’d only have one shot once she stood and they caught sight of her wand moving in the air.

_If you can’t cast it safely, don’t cast it at all_.

_You monster . . . you killed it!_

That had a lot of potential.

Death wasn’t her aim, but . . . if she shot it in the sky . . .. She nodded her head, as she knew that that would be the spell to, if not save her, at least give her time to run to the portkey about 100 feet away to her right.

She peaked over the headstone once more, and was pleased to see that the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were all on the other side of the graveyard—which made sense (no one sane would go _towards_ their captors—proof she was now insane)—while Lucius, Snakey-Snape, Wormy, and Tongue were looking a bit closer, but were still quite far away from where she was.

She’d have time.

She grabbed the locket and pressed a kiss to the side she knew that if it were open, it would be Tom’s face, before she hid it back in her bra.

She quickly unBound her Core and winced when the trees began to sway with the power, and the sweet scent of ozone grew stronger. A loud banging filled the graveyard. She shook her head—she couldn’t worry about anything now—and fell into position and began to channel lightning.

Just as her arm thrust upwards, with the lightning coalesced into a tight little ball at the tip of her wand, she was tackled. She screamed in pain as the light was pulled out of her very being, and the small scratches and large wounds reopened and blood joined in the mix, turning the lightning a harsh blue red. The bolt was just as strong, if not stronger, than the one she used against the dragon. The spell went off course, and instead of going straight up, went at a diagonal at Snakey-Snape who had been running towards her.

“_Tata_!” she shrieked. “No! Get off of me! _Tata_!”

She struggled against the heavy form of Wormy and tried to flip him off of her the way that Padfoot had taught her. That failed. She tried to shock him with Raw Magic. That _also_ failed. With a scream of rage, she jabbed her smoking wand into his side with a painful twist of her wrist. “Go to Hell,” she whispered.

He paled. “Noah, you don’t—”

“_Bombarda Maxima_.”

His large body flew off of her and into a headstone twenty feet away, shattered it, and then landed five feet behind it.

He didn’t move again.

She stood and wiped his blood off of her face and one of the pieces of fleshy entrails off of her. She tried to blink the black spots out of her vision from keeping her eyes open while the Lightning Spell ran its course. She had only taken a few steps towards _tata_ before she was tackled again, that time by someone much lighter. “_Tata_!” she screamed.

He was on the ground, and he wasn’t moving.

Voldemort watched with interest while Barty wrestled with something underneath him and tried to wrap his head around what Noah was shouting.

_Tata_ meant father in Latin, did it not?

If so, that would mean that Severus . . ..

_My daughter . . . please, my Lord . . . I need your help._

Noah was his adopted daughter. He had known that the man’s daughter wasn’t related by blood—but he never—

He never would have thought that she could have been Noah.

Everything started to make sense with his once-left-hand man—after all, the man never cried about anything, and over the last seven months, he had seen the man do so many times (he had come to him crying)—and sadly, it was just as Barty seemed to pin the girl down.

By the throat if the choking sounds were any indication.

Eden and Tongue wrestled for a few minutes, and she even got him underneath her before he got her pinned to the ground by her throat. He seemed to be well versed in a type of Battle Magic she wasn’t aware of.

Her wand slipped from her fingers when she began to claw at his hands, trying to get him to let go. He did, and he moved his hands to her shoulders, and she took a deep, gasping breath.

She struggled to reach for her wand, and paid no mind to the grass and dirt that moved under her fingers as she clawed at the ground. Her hair was in her face—wrapped around her head like a fricken mummy (really, why her hair _floated_ whenever her Core was unBound was _far_ beyond her)—but it didn’t bother her too much. The only thing that bothered her about it was the fact that it continually pressed against the harsh scrapes on her cheeks and _hurt_ her.

She was already in enough pain. She didn’t need any more.

(she was going to be quite the sight when she became visible again)

As she reached for her wand, the locket’s chain fell out of her bra, and when she scooched slightly to the left to reach for her wand, it wrapped tightly around her neck and began to lightly choke her. The locket slipped out of her bra and rested on her straining chest.

Her fingertips just barely brushed the handle of her wand when a large, bare foot came down hard on her left wrist. She cried out in pain when more pressure was added, and she felt the bones crack and grind together. She stopped clawing at the hands that held her captive and switched her nails attention to the large, gray foot in an attempt to ease some of the pressure on her now very broken wrist.

The locket heated against her chest once more.

_Use the portkey, child_.

“No,” she grunted. _Tata_. She needed to save _tata_.

The foot, instead of releasing her—_like it should have_—pressed down more. “Please,” she begged. Her voice was unrecognizable as she continued to beg through her sobs. “Please—_tata_—please. I need to see him. Please stop.”

A high-pitched laugh—at least, she _thought_ it was a laugh (it was far too distorted to tell)—reached her ears. “Look at this, the Girl-Who-Lived, _begging_ the Dark Lord Voldemort for mercy. How _pathetic_.”

A sob tore out of her throat. Yes, she was pathetic. But she would stop at nothing, kill whoever she needed to, to be able to _save tata_.

Tongue got off of her, stood, but put his foot on her stomach, and pressed down harshly. Voldemort quickly replaced him, and she couldn’t help the relieved sob that left her throat as she clutched her broken arm to her chest. Her wand was long forgotten as her locket settled into the hollow of her throat due to her gasping sobs.

“Now, enough playing. Let’s get this spell off of you, shall we, Noah darling?”

Rage filled her very soul, and she started to thrash and buck against him until he was able to land a slap against her cheek with his long nails cutting deep into her skin. She turned her head to the right as he began to wave his wand at her.

Lucius was helping Snakey-Snape sit up, and both watched the Dark Lord with tears in their eyes. “_Tata_!” she cried out. She squirmed against the Dark Lord and stopped when he hissed at her.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Blood-tinged sweat dripped into her eyes and blurred her vision and burned her soul. Tears streaked into her hairline as Voldemort became increasingly angrier and angrier with each failed attempt to reveal her—there was only one way to reveal her (hence the reason why it took nearly two years of near constant work to make her Ring),

Snakey-Snape made an aborted move towards her, but Lucius wisely held him back as tears dripped down his face.

Eden would forever blame what happened next on her parents and their filthy Gryffindor blood.

Voldemort had leaned closer to her—as if that would somehow help him see her—and adrenaline filled her veins. It erased all of the pain in her body. She transfigured her fingernails into knife points and wrapped her hands around his throat. She dug her nails into the soft skin and ignored the vaguely pleasant tingling at the contact and squeezed as tightly as she could.

He growled and grabbed her wrists and tugged her hands away from his neck and pinned them above her head with one of his own. The pain in her wrist returned, and she cried out with pain and sorrow.

She didn’t want to die.

She wanted—_needed_—to see Tom again. To tell him that she loved him one last time.

“My Lord, you’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” the Dark Lord said, terrifyingly amused, “where?”

She blinked her vision clear, and stared at his neck where she had grasped, and was disappointed to find that it was pale and smooth except for a little smudge to the right of his Adam’s apple. Despair filled her as she realized that she hadn’t done any damage to him, whereas he had done so much to her.

Tears burned her eyes.

Blurred outlines of his pale hand reached up to his neck where her thumb—her _Ring_—had rested. Voldemort looked down at her and smirked victoriously. “Oh, my dear,” he started. He stroked her cheek—how he found it, she wouldn’t know. “It seems that I now know how to reveal you, Noah darling.”

She tried to bite his arm and failed.

Pity.

He sat up and released her, and before she could make another strangling attempt—not that she could, the adrenaline was _long_ gone—a heavy torrent of water covered her upper body. She would have choked from the strength, but the ability to breathe water and air at the same time was amazing.

The hair in front of her eyes appeared, and she was blinded to what was going on. She knew the rest of her body was visible too, and she feared what he would do to her now that he could see her. Voldemort tensed and fingered her locket. “Where did you get this?” The voice was muted through the water in her ear. She shook her head to try and get the water out of her ears. She sat up and tried to bite him, but he had her pinned down by her throat before she got anywhere close to him. “Well?” he hissed.

“I’m not required to tell you anything, Voldemort,” she croaked. Her throat burned with the words as she spoke around the pressure. She reached a knife-tipped hand and clawed at his hand. He moved his hand down, so it pressed heavily against her sternum.

“Oh, after all we’ve been through, I believe you are, Noah darling,” he hissed, murder in his voice as he once more fingered her locket.

“Stop calling me that!” she hissed, “and why am I required to tell you anything?” She broke into a violent fit of coughing. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?”

Great.

He was mocking her.

She closed her eyes, so she didn’t have to see his snakey-face . . . hey . . . a new nickname.

Snake-Face.

It fit him.

“No, I don’t. My brother is the one who should be here—not me.”

Another high-pitched chuckle reached her ears. She shivered at the distorted sound. “Oh, my darling Noah—” He skillfully prevent the bite aimed at his arm. “—you really seem to not know. Let me show you.” The pale tip of a wand that seemed to hum when it pressed against her temple (why was it so familiar!?) and then lost images—soul-defying, reality changing, _memories_—from her first year appeared.

_Why, if it isn’t the boy whose taken credit for something he didn’t do._

_What do you mean? Who are you? Noah, stay back._

_Ah, there she is. The Girl-Who-Lived. Step aside, boy. This is a fight you’re too _weak_ to be in._

_No! I won’t let you hurt her!_

_Leif!_

_Too bad, that. He was a good kid. As you can see, Noah, I made quick work of your brother—he isn’t much. But _you_ however . . . oh, the _plans_ we have for you . . ._.

“You’re lying!” she cried out once the memories ended.

“Oh, no.” Moore mocking that made her teeth _ache_ with the need to bite him. “It appears that you’ve blocked that . . . event from your mind, _Noah Darling_.” The pain of the slap against her bleeding cheek was worth it to have his slightly sweet blood coat her teeth and tongue. He pinned her by her neck to the ground once more with a single large hand before he leaned in closely. “Now tell me, _Noah Darling_, ah, ah, ah—no biting, _Darling_. Where did you get this necklace?”

“Why—should I—tell you?”

“Because it’s mine.”

She couldn’t help the scoff that left her constricted throat. “Considering the fact that my boyfriend gave it to me last week—I’d say it’s far more mine than it is yours.”

He froze and began to tremble. With more gentleness than she ever thought the man capable of possessing, he let go of her throat and untangled her hair from her face—head. When she turned her face away and stared at Snakey-Snape and Lucius, he gently turned her head towards him.

“Eden?”

“How do you know that name?” She was terrified. Had he somehow read her mind? Unless Lucius or Snakey-Snape had told him . . . had he just been playing around with calling her Noah?

He looked so sad and confused. “Why are you scared?” The ever-present banging grew more desperate.

“You’re _Voldemort_, why _wouldn’t_ I be scared of you? You tried to kill me when I was a _baby_!”

He swallowed as shame crossed his face, and then his appearance began to morph. Within moments, Tom hovered above her. He had long brown hair that fell over his shoulders and bright blue eyes set into a face that appeared to be in its early twenties, and blood dripped down his neck, and there was a large bite on his forearm.

Her heart stuttered to a stop.

“Tom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you guys liked it! Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Also, I have a conundrum. Two, actually. The first is the next chapter. I don't know how long it will be before I can get it out, because I'm not happy with how it turned out, so, the question for that is, should I just post it, because it's good, don't get me wrong, it's just...I don't even know how to put words to describe my feelings towards it other than I've read it about fifteen times, and every time I read it I'm left wanting but have no clue how to fix it to change it.
> 
> The second conundrum is the second half of the book. Some things happened, mainly me realizing that the rest of what I originally had planned was just fluff and borderline crack, and I can't stand crack, and I overall wasn't happy with everything I had planned. So, I replotted the entirety of it. If those on AO3 have noticed, the chapter max has gone up to 101. It was at 58 for those of you who care to know. It's 67 chapters, not including the prologue or epilogue, and I'm going to be honest, I haven't written it. I have a few scenes written down, but they're scattered, so it's not like I can post the chapter. So, what that all lead up to is this: should I write an alternate ending for those of you who don't want to stick around for the year it will take me to get to a point on the second part that I can start posting again. 
> 
> It would be a happy ending, it would be a pretty straight forward ending. It would be anywhere between 2,000 and 10,000 words. 
> 
> The real ending I anticipate taking anywhere from 200,000 to I-don't-even-know words to get to, a year--probably more because I need a break from this series and will be working on an original I got from another fanfiction I started to write for Harry Potter and abandoned when I got that idea--and will be....spoilers.
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> Eden and Abyss have finally been finished. Remember, it's marked as mature, because Abyss is...special.
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/kageookamie/art/Eden-Meets-Abyss-839686136


	34. 33 Betrayal? (Honesty)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is the chapter that I find lacking. I'm happy with everything up to the scene break. So...yeah. Hope you like it better than I do.

** _Thursday, June 24, 1995_ **

** _ Little Hangleton Graveyard_ **

Voldemort’s feet touched the ground for the first time in thirteen years.

How glorious that feeling was. He had a _body_ again. Elation filled him like a balloon as he began to pat along his bare chest and legs. He was nearly whole once more.

He ran his fingers through his chest length hair, and like always, noted it hadn’t felt as good as it did when Eden—no.

“My wand, Barty.”

He grasped the bone-white wand, and his magic flared to life, and a single Magical Tear fell down his face before his mind quickly readjusted to his Core size.

A smirk crossed his face as his glamour fell into place.

_Let the fun begin_.

** _Quidditch Pitch_ **

“Sirius.”

He looked up from trying to sooth his frantic wife—he felt exactly as she did (Eden was the only Champion who hadn’t returned yet)—and stared at the Headmaster. “Yes, Professor?”

“I need you and your wife to come with me. Immediately.”

“What about the Tournament? What about my goddaughter?” Mariea demanded.

“Trust me. You need to come with me now.”

He and his wife exchanged looks, and when Cissa and Moony nodded their heads, they slipped away to a secluded and Warded tent that took up a good part of the pitch where the officials, other school heads, seven Aurors, and his boss, Amelia Bones, were. “What’s going on, Professor?” his wife demanded just moments before he could.

Something _bad_ must have happened to one of the Champions if the head of Magical Law Enforcement was there when he _knew_ she was on vacation with her husband.

“I’m going to be very blunt with you, Sirius,” his boss started, “your goddaughter, Noah, is missing.”

Mariea’s magic crackled dangerously in the air, and her hair—which had been tied into cornrows—began to smoke slightly. His heart dropped to the center of the earth. “Excuse me?” he demanded in a shaky tone.

“What do you mean _missing_?” his wife hissed. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her smooth, dark caramel skin.

“Noah’s missing,” Dumbledore answered. “She got to the Cup just before another competitor, and . . . well . . . according to Mister Diggory, she touched it and was whisked away, almost as if it were a portkey.”

“You’re telling me,” he started in a dangerous growl, “that my _goddaughter_ was _taken_ from the _safest_ place in the UK?”

Amelia stepped forward and gently placed her hand on Dumbledore’s shoulder before he could respond. “We’re asking the two of you to Enact the Godparent Clause. Severus and Alastor have already been dispatched to try and track her using some potion or other, and I’ve sent out almost every Auror not on emergency or family leave, but we don’t know if she’s safe or not, or even _where_ she could be. Whoever took her hid their steps well, and no amount of Scrying is finding her. That’s why we’re asking you two to help. It’s the fastest way we can guarantee her safety.”

He scoffed. “If Sevvy and Ally can’t find her, _no one_ will be able to find her.”

She nodded. “That’s why we’re asking you to do this.”

A tear fell on his hand, and he immediately turned his wife around and held her close as she clutched onto the back of shirt. He ran his hand along her hair and summoned his rarely used Mask to keep himself from crying. “The Godparent Clause isn’t a guarantee to find her. There is more than just the Godparent Bond in play with it.” He barely noticed the lightening of the area as he spoke. “There has to be a strong Bond not only between the godchild and godparent, but there also has to be one between the birthparent, and godparent, and the child and the birthparent.” He pressed a kiss to Mariea’s head and bit back the tears. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Eden isn’t exactly _fond_ or _close_ to James and Lily.”

“Sirius, we need you to try.”

“Why?”

Albus took a deep breath. “I believe that Voldemort may have taken Noah in an act against Leif.”

A harsh laugh ripped out of his throat. “Try again, Headmaster. Voldemort is _dead_.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Please, Sirius, just _try_.”

“I can’t!” he snarled, and the everyone stepped back with aghast expressions on their faces except for those from France.

“Profezer,” a light, heavily accented and airy voice said from behind them. He turned and saw a dirty Fleur standing just inside the tent. “I do not know if it iz ze same ‘ere as it iz in France, but if ze Godparent Clause iz used, and does not work, ze Godparent Bond iz broken, and cannot be repaired.”

A gasp from behind them told him that it was not a known fact.

“But, also in France,” the girl went on, “it iz not required to ‘ave a strong paternal Bond, only a strong Bond wiz ze godparents. Zere iz a special Ritual zat allow zis to be so.”

“You are dismissed, Fleur.”

“Yes, ‘eadmistress.”

It was silent. “Can we think about it?” Mariea asked from his chest.

“Of course. We’ll give you two some time to think about it.”

** _Little Hangleton Graveyard_ **

Voldemort had expected pleasure when his foot came down on Noah’s wrist. Instead all he had was a sick . . . almost _guilty_ feeling.

He figured it had to do with the fact that Noah was Severus’ daughter. The girl who he had given away his closely guarded research pertaining to that of the Magical Coma to save.

He had always had a soft spot for the man, and it was no shock to him that he had done so. He had so _dearly_ cared for him, almost as if he were his own son. He had so many qualities that his dear Eden—no.

She was an imagination.

Right?

_Please let her be an imagination brought on by formless insanity._

“Please.” The choked sob pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at the crushed grass that indicated where Noah lay. Her voice was thick, and her nails dug harshly into his foot. He knew that when he took the glamor off, there would be long shallow cuts on his foot from them. Impressive. “Please, _tata_, please—”

Logically he knew that she was crying out for Severus, but, something still . . . _moved_ inside of him at the term.

He had wanted to have children with his Eden—

_No. She’s just an imagination brought on by formless insanity. You have always wanted to have children, you never found someone who was worthy to be their mother._

Something inside of him—somewhere that he had buried deep long ago with his useless emotions—wept at the thought.

“—I need to see him. Please stop.”

He laughed and pressed harder on her wrist, and again felt something snap. His lips curled into a sneer. Woops. “Look at this,” he said to his followers who had gathered around the two of them in a loose circle—except for Lucius and Severus, but that was fine. “The Girl-Who-Lived, _begging_ the Dark Lord Voldemort for Mercy. How _pathetic_.”

How _cute_, he mentally sneered.

Barty got off of the girl, and he quickly replaced him and straddled the girl’s stomach. She was . . . alarmingly small for a fourteen-year old girl.

“Now, enough playing. Let’s get this spell off of you, shall we, Noah darling?”

He smirked as he seemed to hit a nerve in her, and he easily kept her from bucking him off of her due to his training with Eden, and his continuance of the practice. He did, however, grow weary of it, and was lucky when he landed a hit to her body—most likely her face due to the hair he felt under his nails.

“_Tata_!” she wailed once more.

Once more, something in him soured.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered, just barely able to be heard. Voldemort doubted that had he not done all of those Rituals to enhance his senses when he was 25, he didn’t think he’d have heard the man at all.

“I’m sorry, too.”

What did _Noah_ have to be sorry about?

She hadn’t sold herself into his grasp, unlike her father—adoptive father.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and proceeded to try and remove whatever spell she had used to make herself invisible. With every failed attempt, he grew more and more impressed, but also angrier.

He had seen the lightning that she had cast, and while he wasn’t entirely sure if it was _the_ Lightning Spell, or if it was something simpler and thus easier to cast, he figured that she was powerful.

He just hadn’t realized _how_ powerful.

He thought about Scanning her Core to see if that would show any signs of a spell that was leeching her energy, and decided against it, as most of the reversal spells he had cast would have stopped a spell like that.

So, either she had an object that could turn her invisible, or it was some Potter Inheritance that he was unaware of. Did the Potters even _have_ Line Inheritances? Did she get a Black Line Inheritance from her godparents?

No . . . invisibility wasn’t a Black Inheritance.

What about her godmother?

Noah once more pulled him out of his thoughts when she wrapped admittedly small hands around his neck and dug extremely sharp nails into his skin.

Again, when the glamor came off, there would be _blood_.

He quickly pinned her hands above her head and had to resist the urge to laugh. Underneath his glamor he could feel the blood start to drip down his back and chest. No one had been able to harm him through his glamor like that before without their magic.

Granted, no one was Noah Potter.

She would live.

Not only for Severus, but for his amusement as well.

He ignored the desperate cries of the girl underneath him and looked at Marcellus when he cleared his throat. Marcellus was one of the few of his Knights that still lived or wasn’t imprisoned. Noah was another, and stood next to him—why did he look so disturbed? Julian and Theodosius were both in Azkaban, and the rest had died long before he lost his body.

Except for Abraxas. He had died earlier in the year.

“My Lord, you’re bleeding.” Next to Marcellus, Noah nodded.

That would get confusing quickly. Perhaps he’d change Noah Potter’s name to something more appropriate for a girl.

“Am I?” he asked thoroughly amused. Noah’s lips twitched, and the two men nodded. They were the ones who had helped him create his glamour. “Where?”

Marcellus motioned to his throat, and Noah reluctantly nodded as victory sang in Voldemort’s veins. He put a finger to his throat, and he nearly laughed. “Oh, my dear, it seems that I now know how to reveal you,” he looked to the crushed grass, “Noah darling.”

She jerked against him before she sagged with a slight groan. He glanced at one of his oldest friends and bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the delightfully uncomfortable expression on his face.

He definitely needed to change Potter’s name.

He brandished his wand with a flourish before he flooded the ground around him, and Noah was once more revealed to him. He huffed, unable to fully stop the laughter when his eyes landed on her face. Her hair was wrapped completely around her head, and he could see mud and blood on the few patches of pale skin that he could see through the mess.

Her chin was tucked, and he could see the glint of a gold chain as she shifted slightly. She had a cloth wrapped around her upper left arm and wore a black dragonhide top of sorts that covered only her small breasts. She wore green yoga pants, and he assumed she wore some type of shoe. He couldn’t see past her pelvis.

She lifted her chin, and he tensed as his eyes fell upon a necklace . . . one that he had made years and years ago.

She wasn’t a dream.

She was _real_.

Agony—unholy unworthy unending _undying_—shredded through him at the speed of light. He nearly doubled over at the pain of losing Eden once more.

“Where did you get this?” he snarled as he gently touched the locket with one hand. She shook her head slowly before she sat up and tried to bite him. He grabbed her throat and pinned her down before she got close to him. He chose to ignore the sensation of her skin against his.

It was probably just an after effect of the Ritual.

(it wasn’t)

_I love you, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Nothing will ever make me stop loving you._

She had said that long before he _truly_ became Lord Voldemort.

Long before he lost his way.

Long before he lost his moral compass named Eden.

“Well?” he hissed.

Did his Eden live? Did she marry someone else and give birth to Noah? No. It couldn’t be that. He had met Noah’s mother that night, thirteen years ago. He would have recognized her, even if she _had_ changed her hair color.

Was Eden an aunt to Noah?

Where did the child get the locket?

_Where the _hell_ was his Eden_?

Something in the back of his mind itched.

“I’m not required to tell you anything, Voldemort.” Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath his palm. She clawed at his hand, and once more, blood oozed down his hand as he moved it to her sternum.

Her heart still pounded painfully.

He fingered the locket with his other hand and twisted the warm chain around his thumb. His Eden, oh, where was his Eden? “Oh, after all we’ve been through, I believe that you are, Noah darling.”

“Stop calling me that!” So, the little Savior didn’t like her name either. That, or it was the ‘darling’ that she had issues with. He glanced up at Noah, and saw the man smiling unabashedly, while still looking extremely uncomfortable. He was entirely too entertained with riling the both of them up to stop.

“Be thoughtful,” the healer mouthed.

Voldemort frowned before his attention was pulled back to the girl. “And why am I required to tell you anything?” She broke into a violent fit of coughing, and without thinking about it, he sent a pulse of magic into her chest from his hand, and she stopped, but her voice was still rough as she spoke. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t. My brother is the one who should be here—not me.”

The itching in the back of his head grew stronger.

“Oh, my darling Noah, you really seem to not know.” He hoped no one noticed the way his voice choked.

(Noah did)

“Let me show you.”

_I don’t remember._

_Eden, what do you not remember?_

_What was I doing before I came here?_

_Eden, why are your hands burnt? Answer me, Eden!_

His Eden had been a first year when that happened

_Noah_ had been a first year.

Could it be . . .?

“You’re lying!” she cried desperately.

His heart seemed to freeze, and his mind started to whirl at horrifying speeds.

“Oh, no. It appears you’ve blocked that . . . event from your mind, _Noah Darling_.” Her teeth latched onto his forearm. He hissed and glared at Marcellus and Noah when they both snickered. He slapped her away, and he had to once more resist the urge to remove the glamor to check the damage that she had done. “Now tell me, _Noah Darling_, ah, ah, ah—no biting, _Darling_. Where did you get this necklace?” His voice had started playful and ended murderous. If she didn’t answer him soon, he was going to tear the hair out of her head so he could dive into her mind and find the answer himself.

“Why—should I—tell you?”

“Because it’s mine.”

She scoffed, and he nearly choked her then and there. His hand slid up, and he stopped when she spoke. “Considering that my boyfriend gave it to me last week—I’d say that it’s far more mine than it is yours.”

He froze.

So many possibilities ran through his head—did his Eden sell the locket? Did she have a _son_? _Without him_?

But there was one possibility . . . one that he _couldn’t_ dismiss—and how he yearned and hoped, dreaded and quaked for the answer.

He carefully untangled the hair from around her head and used his magic to help him, and he turned her to face him, and joy, and unimaginable _sorrow_ ate him alive as the memories snapped back into place.

** _NOAH POTTER: DARK LADY IN THE MAKING?_ **

_No! _

_Remove it! Now! All of it! Erase it._

Why? Why had he done that?

His body shuddered as anguish hit him.

He knew why.

The crushing guilt then was nothing compared to the guilt that he felt now that he had her underneath him once more. It was nothing compared to the knowledge that _he had hurt her_. Willingly. Eagerly.

_Without mercy_.

He had broken bones, skin, hopes, and dreams.

He had never felt pain as visceral as the pain he felt in that moment.

“Eden?” he begged.

Please, please let it be her.

Please. _Please_.

“How do you know that name?”

Wasn’t it _obvious_? Hadn’t she seen him just the night prior? Was some god punishing him?

Tears began to well in his eyes with a painful burn.

“Why are you scared?” he croaked.

“You’re _Voldemort_, why _wouldn’t_ I be scared?” His heart shattered. “You tried to kill me when I was a _baby_!”

For the first time in his life, he _regretted_ every _single_ horcrux.

He wanted to die.

** _Hogwarts_ **

“Do you have an answer for us yet, Sirius?”

He and his wife exchanged a look. “We’ll do it.” It had been almost an hour since they had been informed that Eden was missing, and they both thought that the safety of their goddaughter was more important than the Bond.

Hell, it was _Eden_. She could find a way to restore the Bond if it broke.

Amelia nodded with endless understanding and respect in her eyes. “I, Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, hereby allow Sirius Orion Black and Mariea Silka Black nee McKay to Enact the Godparent Clause. They are exempt from the Law in the case that the Clause succeeds, and they are allowed any and all types of Magic to find Noah Eden Potter. Should anyone die in the rescuing of Noah Eden Potter by either of their hands, they will be fully pardoned from the Law. So, I say it, so mote it be.”

Magic tightened in the air, and he and Mariea exchanged a look.

“Let’s go find our girl.”

** _Little Hangleton Graveyard_ **

“Tom?”

The man in front of her smiled softly. “Yes, it’s me, love.”

Something recoiled deep inside of her. She crawled out from underneath him and backed up until she hit someone’s legs. “No. You’re lying,” she stuttered. Her body began to shake. “You can’t be Tom. You—you must have read my mind or something. No—no! Stay away! Don’t come closer!”

She pushed herself to her feet, and when large hands landed on her shoulders, she grabbed them, cried out in pain, and instead of throwing them like she planned, she shocked them until they let go of her.

The Dark Lord started towards her once more, and she began to stumble away from him.

“Eden, you’re a Natural Occlumens. Your mind _can’t_ be read.”

She paused before she continued to move away from him. Someone must have told him. “Don’t. Please. I’m sorry for killing you when I was a baby. But, you’re here now. _Can you please remove his face_?” Her chest ached from the desperate sobs and gasps of air she took as she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening.

“Eden,” he spoke, almost desperate, “it’s me, Tom.”

He wasn’t.

Her magic ripped out of her in a violent wave. The weak headstones in a fifteen-foot radius fell over, the trees bent to her will, and her body lifted off of the ground. Cuts began to appear on their already bleeding bodies as her eyes started to glow a sickly green.

“You’re not my Tom! _Stop_! _Lying_!”

A large gash appeared on her right side, and she cried out. Instead of healing her like her magic typically would, more gashes began to appear on her body as Magical Tears began to drip down her face, and her Core began to burn. Voldemort lunged towards her and before she could do anything, he had her wrapped in his arms before he pressed his lips to hers.

Fire. Soul-wrenching _peace_ filled her body and mind as his lips molded perfectly over hers. He forced her magic back into her body with his own—which was now triple what it was when she was in his past (if it really was her Tom)—and unlike when _tata_ or Sirius did it, it didn’t hurt.

He pulled away and gasped for air as tears welled in his eyes. “Do you believe me now?”

She nodded and stroked his face. “You’re Voldemort?” He nodded and her heart sorrowed. “Voldemort is a madman, and an idiot, Tom. What happened to turn you into _that_?”

A tear dripped down his face and onto hers as he stroked her cheek. “I lost you,” he whispered. “I lost you, and I never got you back.”

He pressed his lips to hers before she could respond. _She_ was the reason _Voldemort_ existed? She pulled away after a moment.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘never got me back’?”

He stroked her face and scanned her body as if he hadn’t seen her in years. “You stopped coming back.”

“What? No! I was there last night!”

“You never came back.”

Her eyes watered. “No. I was there last night. You shrunk Abyss, and, and—”

He stroked her face again as she blinked away tears. “Eden, you didn’t come back after that. You—you—I thought you were dead.”

“But I was just there.” A lump began to form in the back of her throat.

“I know you were to you. I haven’t seen you in fifty years, Eden. I thought that I had made you up.”

“But—you said you had found a way for us to keep seeing each other after you graduated.”

His eyes watered. “I had. I was going to bring you back. I created a spell that would transport you through Time and Space to bring you to me. I was going to marry you after you turned seventeen. But you never came back, Eden.”

A choked sob left her throat. “But—_I was just there_!”

“I know. Eden, I know.”

He tilted her face up and kissed her again. It was soft and sweet, and full of longing and heartbreak. His hand squeezed her hip, and she slowly started to respond to his avid advances until he was tossed away from her.

Lucius, _tata_, Sirius, and Mariea all crouched in front of her. “Get out of here. I’ll hold him off,” Sirius demanded just before he stood and started to exchange rapid fire spells with Tom.

“Sirius, no!” Eden shouted. Mariea yanked the locket into her hands, and Eden realized what they were trying to do. “No!” she cried, “don’t! Let me explain!”

Lucius sat behind her and wrapped her thrashing body in his arms. She struggled against the willfully deaf adults and cried out when he and _tata _managed to pin her so she couldn’t thrash the locket around. “I’m so sorry, Eden,” Mariea whispered. The woman summoned a familiar dagger before she cut Eden’s collarbone. She wiped the locket in the blood that spilled. “Say the words.”

She shook her head. “No—I can explain—Don’t—Hermione—”

Snakey-Snape frowned before he pressed her hand to it with his own. He looked up for a moment, and she saw the deepest care and regret in his eyes.

The sound of splintering wood echoed in the graveyard.

“True Friend.”

Growling howls and whimpers filled the air.

Abyss.

A horrid tugging sensation started to build in her navel, and she began to struggle even more. The hands let go of her, and she scrambled towards Sirius and Tom, but before she got there, she was yanked away.

At least she was able to shout one thing before she left.

“Don’t hurt him!”

**_Quidditch_ _Pitch_**

Draco Malfoy _hated_ having to calm psychotic girls. It was annoying on a good day, but when his hand hurt, his head hurt, his vision swayed, his legs weak, and stomach churning with his own worry, it was unbearable.

It _sucked_.

A lot.

He was too young for that sort of responsibility, and he was far too miserable to be any help to the three girls around him.

He again looked over to his mother—who was speaking to one of the French Ambassadors with Uncle Moony—and wondered why _she_ wasn’t the one comforting the four distraught teenagers.

He turned back to Pansy, Ambrosia, and Hermione. “Hey, everything’s going to be alright. She’s fine,” he tried to soothe.

Ambrosia’s pink eyes shot up to his, and he felt his body begin to stiffen. The pupils began to take on a pointed oval shape, and he regretted speaking as coldness began to seep along his body. “You feel the blood running thin, don’t you?” she hissed, “something’s _wrong_.”

Hermione weakly nodded along with the raven-haired girl. He frowned at how pale she was. Her hair stuck to her face, which was covered in a light layer of sweat, and her body shook. “Hermione?” he asked softly.

She shook her head and stumbled at the motion. “I’m fine,” she stuttered softly. “I’m just really—” She cut off with a groan of pain and bent over and clutched at her stomach.

“Hermione!?” the three Snakes demanded in a panic.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“I don’t—I don’t—ah!” Her legs collapsed from beneath her, and her body began to shake as Magical Tears—a dark gray line left in their wake—dripped down her face and onto the ground. The ground began to smoke as gashes appeared on Hermione’s upper right and left arms, both forearms, just below her elbow, and two long, shallow cuts on either side of her neck in a diagonal from either side of the hollow of her throat to behind her ears.

“Madam Pomfrey!” he shouted as Ambrosia began to rapidly run scans over Hermione’s spasming form with violently shaking hands.

He didn’t notice the blood on their Prayer Cloths soak through as the Lifeblood began to flow more freely.

“What’s going on?” the matron asked as she stepped into the circle of teens.

“I don’t know—” Ambrosia hissed. “I can’t figure it out and my hand is shaking too much—it looks like Lash-Back—but—”

Hermione’s body bent into a U-shape before a loud wail left her lips and echoed around the privacy ward Pansy summoned hours ago. Draco grabbed her bending form and tried to steady her. Panic began to eat him. Not Eden. Not Hermione. No—no—no—no—not again.

He can’t be helpless again—

A heavy thud behind him.

A high-pitched scream from the stands.

Hermione’s body went still.

“Eden,” Pansy gasped softly.

He turned around, and indeed his sister lay haphazardly in the center of the small clearing between the stands and the hedges. He placed Hermione on the ground in front of him, before he stumbled to his feet, and ran to her. His mother and Uncle Moony both grabbed his shoulders before he made it to her.

Before he could demand why, a bright light left Eden’s locket and hovered above her. The light formed a vaguely feminine shape before it faded with a painful wink.

He fought his way out of his mother’s arms and knelt next to his sister and pulled her still form into his arms.

She wasn’t breathing.

* * *

** _Sunday, June 25, 1995_ **

** _ Hogwarts_ **

_“Don’t hurt him!”_

The desperate plea of his goddaughter still echoed in his mind—even though it was nearly five hours after she had shouted them. In the moment, he had been confused. The man had kidnapped her, and she was severely injured, and it was clear he was touching her without her consent.

At least, that’s what he thought until she was gone, and the man—_call me Marvolo_—stood and quickly incapacitated him without a wand.

What had proceeded after that was something that, had it not cleared things up, he would have thought was a practical joke.

Eden was a time traveler.

Every time she slept while at Hogwarts, she’d visit Babymort whenever _he_ was at school too.

(at least now he knew why she’d sleep so much whenever in the hospital wing)

He trained her for the Triwizard Tournament.

He fell in love with her, and, if Marvolo were to be believe, she fell in love with him.

Sirius swallowed as he looked to his shell-shocked wife. “You okay?” he murmured before he draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

She breathed deeply as Barty-Moody-whoever-the-hell-it-was opened the Hogwarts Gates. “I think so. I mean, it makes a lot of things make sense.”

“It does.” He turned to Severus who wrestled with the Hellhound-turned-kitten. He patted his shoulder and received a glare for his efforts. “How are you doing, Downfeather?”

“I’m ready to kill this monstrosity. Is that what you mean?”

He laughed softly under his breath. The gates squeaked behind him and shut with a heavy thud. “No. How are you feeling about Eden being a time traveler?”

He grunted before he thrust the kitten to his left. “You take this.” The kitten was taken by an invisible force.

“I’ll have to give Abyss back to you, so I’m not discovered when we make it to the school,” Marvolo said softly.

Sirius was a very straight man. He had never fancied anyone of the same sex. Not once. But hearing his voice, and knowing what the man looked like, well . . ..

He wasn’t surprised Eden had fallen in love with him.

(if he wasn’t married, he’d be questioning his sexuality, he was sure)

“I don’t care. I just want that beast to calm down before I lose my hands.”

“Fair.”

“Hey, answer my question, Down. I need to know if your world was turned topsy-turvy too.”

The man turned and gathered the front of his robes into his hands and pulled Sirius close until their noses touched. “If you think for one second that I’ll abandon my daughter, you’re more of a dumb mutt than I thought you were, Black,” he hissed. “I may not like the fact that she’s been time traveling for years and didn’t tell me, but I will be forever grateful to the gods that she _was_ time traveling because the Dark Lord saved her life.”

Sirius wrapped the man into a hug. The Potions Master resisted for a moment before he returned the embrace and began to sob earnestly. “I get it, Sev. I really, really do,” he murmured.

“I know,” he gasped.

The two stayed like that for a moment before Mariea cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was choked, “Someone’s coming.”

Abyss was quickly shoved into Severus’ expanded pockets, and the group of five continued on their way towards the castle.

It was Minerva.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alive. We were so worried after Miss Potter—” she choked on her words. “What took so long? It’s almost five in the morning!”

“We were dealing with the person who took her. He was . . . resistant to our attempts, and we had to follow him around for a while. Lost him a few times . . . we caught up to him just before he fell off a cliff.”

Lucius had to find a body in a muggle morgue and had more fun throwing it down the cliff than he probably should have had.

The woman gasped. “Where did he take her?”

“The Shadow Labyrinth in Russia,” Barty answered. He took a swig of Polyjuice. “Bloody unpleasant that was. How’s the girl?”

Minerva looked to the ground. “She’s in St. Mungo’s.”

“What? Why?” Mariea gasped. Her nails dug into Sirius’ arm, but he didn’t feel it. Had they _not_ saved their goddaughter?

“She . . . she wasn’t breathing when she returned.” Painful waves of Dark magic crushed him. “Healer Michaels and Madam Pomfrey took her there before anyone could protest. I . . . I haven’t heard anything since. You should go to her.”

Sirius nodded, and tried to ignore the magic that felt like it was drawing circles into his skin with his own blood. “You go,” Barty said, “I need to rest my old bones. I’ll be there in the morning.”

He nodded once more and allowed his wife to drag him off of the grounds—which they had barely entered—and allowed her to apparate the four of them away.

** _St. Mungo’s_ **

Sirius sat to Eden’s right and held her limp hand between his own, and Marvolo sat on her left and held her hand to his lips.

He didn’t think the Dark Lord could have ever been so human.

“You still love her,” he said softly. Mariea lay on a cot next to him and slept peacefully, while Severus was on another cot on the other side of Eden. Lucius and Narcissa slept in Hermione’s room so when she woke up, she wouldn’t be alone.

Healer Michaels said it was a miracle she hadn’t died from the Lash-Back.

“More than anything,” Marvolo whispered against her hand. He pressed a kiss against the skin held to his mouth. “You know . . . after she left, every single time, I’d pray that she’d come back. I never believed in a higher power until she came to me. I had heard of the Olde gods, but I didn’t believe in them until she was there.” Sirius bit his cheek to try and keep the tears from falling. “After she left . . . I thought I could defy their will and get her back. I did everything I could, from Love Magic, to Death Magic, to Hate Magic, to Life Magic, Soul Magic . . . Aether Magik.” The man scoffed and kissed his goddaughter’s hand again. “You name it, I probably used it to try to get her back.”

“Did you ever stop?”

“Yes, eventually. I gave up hope after I was in my thirties. I convinced myself that she was just a dream, and that she was a figment of my imagination. I had so many plans, and she supported most of them. The ones she didn’t support, she made her displeasure clear, and I’d often change or discard the plan all together to keep her happy.” Marvolo opened her hand and pressed a kiss against the palm, and then placed it against the side of his face. “When she left, I no longer had someone to tell me how far was too far. I went insane without her.”

“Your plans, are they the same as they were before? Before Leif killed you.”

“No. They’re not. I learned from my mistakes. At first, they were the same, but then I got Abyss and Thorin back, and with them, I started to receive some of my sanity. And by the way, _Eden_ was the one who defeated me those years ago.”

“What?”

“Yes. I chose the child wearing a pink onesie that said ‘daddy’s little princess’ on it. She had been crying and chewing on a plastic ring of sorts—”

“A teething ring. It helps when they’re cutting a tooth.”

The man gave him a strange look. “Anyway, I decided that she’d be the one I started with. Mainly because she was the one in front of me.”

The two men fell silent after a while. “Your plans . . . what are they?”

“I need Eden. I want freedom. I want power. I will not settle for anything less than those three things. I will do anything necessary to get them—” Blue eyes met silver, and then the ice faded to a blood red. “—even slaughter the entirety of Wizarding Britain to get it done.” The red faded back into blue. “I will try to not go with that route, but if anyone tries to take Eden from me ever again . . .

“The world will burn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me what you think. I got quite a bit of comments saying to just post it, and then when I come back to this, edit it if I feel it's necessary. There are reasons as to why I wrote it this way, but you don't see that until the second part, which I will reveal the name of in the next chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, I have started to write the alternate/temporary ending, and remember when I said it would be short and sweet? About 10,000 words max? HAH! I LIED TO YOU! I'm working on it on my phone, and while I don't have an exact word count, I'd say I'm definitely somewhere between 15,000 and 20,000 words easily, and I'm not even close to finishing it. So...yeah. It'll take a bit longer to get that out than anticipated, because apparently I don't know how to write fluff without plot.
> 
> Thanks to all of the comments. Love you all.
> 
> Eden and Abyss have finally been finished. Remember, it's marked as mature, because Abyss is...special.
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/kageookamie/art/Eden-Meets-Abyss-839686136


	35. 34 Dead and Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this took to get out. Life kind of got a bit crazy for a bit.
> 
> If you want to absolutely shatter your hearts like I did, listen to these two songs while thinking about this chapter
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2jcxiAyARs  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3o1TwbGpxV4

** _Sunday, June 24, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

She’s late.

Tom had been pleased upon waking to find that it was in fact morning and that Eden hadn’t come crashing into his room in the middle of the night on the brink of death. Again. But now . . . now it was an hour after she usually came.

Perhaps she was just celebrating.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Tom lay in bed, his arms empty, and his heart aching.

Maybe she had been awake, but then taken to St. Mungo’s before she could fall asleep at Hogwarts.

He stared at the top drawer of his nightstand, and bit back the tears.

Nothing was going to plan.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

_He slept and dreamed,  
_ _of smoke and water.  
_ _Of things that gleamed,  
_ _of heat and laughter._

_He dreamt of warmth  
_ _and a warm summer breeze  
_ _of the sun in the North  
_ _and things that please._

_He thought to live, he’d have to die.  
_ _His hopes and dreams could ne’er fly  
_ _But still dreamed did he, of sweet goodbye  
_ _He couldn’t help but ask why I?_

_With breath locked in his throat,  
_ _he sat up and gasped for air.  
_ _It was hard to see, and hard to note,  
_ _that something was gone, no longer there._

* * *

** _Monday, June 25, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

Now that his NEWTs were over, Tom doesn’t have classes to distract him.

He spends his time writing the speech he’s required to give at the graduation ceremony on Saturday. He spends his time pacing the floor. He constantly looks behind him and hopes that she would be there with a triumphant grin on her face, and her full name on her lips.

It doesn’t happen.

He goes to the Labyrinth.

“**Human**!” Abyss cheers as he closes the lid behind him. The Hellhound pauses. “**Where is my Human? She has completed the Tournament, has she not**?”

Tom looks at the giant teddy-bear-like dog and shook his head. “I don’t know Abyss.”

The Hellhound growls. “**She will come back, will she not?**”

Thorin lands behind him and bends over so his large beak rests on his shoulder. He automatically feeds him Magic. “I hope so.”

Abyss pouts before he leaves to chase after a War Turtle—probably to tear it slowly into little pieces while using Hell Magic to keep it alive until it would be physically impossible to keep it alive.

It’s a favorite pastime of the Hellhound.

Thorin nips his ear softly. “**You are sad**,” he states.

“**I’m worried. There’s a difference**.”

“**About your Chosen Mate**?”

“**Yes**.”

The Raven is silent for a moment. “**She will be fine**.”

She better be fine.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

_In pain he glares.  
_ _In pain he blames.  
_ _He closes his eyes in despair.  
_ _It is of flames he dreams._

_Beginnings and endings  
_ _So many smiles and kisses  
_ _Snow white weddings  
_ _He tries to catch, but always misses._

_Of red as blood.  
_ _Of blue as royal.  
_ _Of purple as dark.  
_ _Of smoke. Of water._

_Endings, and beginnings._

* * *

** _Wednesday, June 27, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

He hadn’t left his room since he woke up.

He still waited for her. His back to the wall. His heart in his throat.

It had been three days.

He hoped to the Olde gods that it wouldn’t be a repeat of whatever had happened earlier that year.

* * *

** _Thursday, June 28, 1945_ **

** _ Headmaster Armando Dippet’s Office_ **

“I’m sorry, Tom. But, according to the Board of Directors, you’re just a bit too young. If I didn’t have to check with them first, I’d have hired you in a heartbeat.” The man smiled softly at him. “I promise that if you still want the teaching job in five years, you _will_ have an interview, even if we have a teacher.”

His heart plummeted to his stomach.

“But, sir—”

“Might I suggest you go and travel for a bit . . . get some experience.”

He knew an order when he heard it. “Yes, sir.”

** _Head Dorms_ **

He threw the small box at the wall and screamed at the world.

Abyss fared no better than he did.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

_Of sparkling diamonds  
_ _of grinning smiles  
_ _of nothing but the horizons  
_ _of long white aisles  
_ _of hopes defiled._

_He hopes and dreams  
_ _He looks for things  
_ _that are not what they seem.  
_ _He is lost, a crownless king  
_ _His queen is gone on silver wings_

* * *

** _Friday, June 29, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

He refused to think it.

Yet, it seemed that that is all his mind could chant.

_She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead._

_She’s **dead**_.

His heart ached, and all he wanted to do was find her, and _save her_.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

_Acknowledgement is key they say,  
_ _but ignorance has always been bliss  
_ _Acknowledgement brings his decay  
_ _She’s dead, his mind will always hiss_

_A knight in shining armor  
_ _is what he wants to be.  
_ _To steal her away from all who harm her,  
_ _Is something he’d be pleased to see._

_If only she were there.  
_ _If only she were in his arms.  
_ _If only she were in his bed.  
_ _If only she were there._

* * *

** _Saturday, June 30, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

He refused to accept it.

He would _never_ accept it.

* * *

** _Sunday, July 1, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

It was just after midnight.

He couldn’t sleep. His head ached, and he felt as if there was something that he was missing. Something so extraordinarily important, it pulled him from his research.

He shook his head before he stood and stumbled to the bathroom.

He gripped the porcelain sink in his shaking hands, and when he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see himself.

_I am sorry, my son_, the Aether spoke.

“What do you mean?” he slurred.

_I warned you_.

“What—”

_I told you to love her because you didn’t have time. _Time_ has run out, my son_.

“What do you—” His vision throbbed.

_If you play your cards right, my son, you will see her again._

“Heaven doesn’t exist,” he snarled.

The Aether faded, and with it, his hopes. He stared into bloodshot eyes and remembered the words spoken back in November.

_Love her, for you do not have much time with her as you are now_.

** _Hogwarts Express_ **

Damn the Aether.

He was getting her back, no matter _what_ it took.

* * *

_Falling to the earth,  
_ _falling to the dust.  
_ _Falling into a world of disgust,  
_ _he can do nothing but wish for rebirth._

* * *

** _Thursday, June 19, 1958_ **

** _ Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s Office_ **

“My goodness, Tom! You don’t look a day over twenty! How old are you now, my boy?”

Tom smiled thinly. He had stopped taking the aging potions on his 24th birthday. “31, sir,” he answered genially, “you’re looking well, yourself.” He wasn’t, but he needed this job.

The man stroked his beard. “Thank you, my boy. While I appreciate you coming all this way, I am sorry. We just filled the position yesterday. I am so sorry, my boy. I thought of writing a letter, but thought that we could catch up together.”

A quick, subtle peak into the man’s mind told him the truth. The position was still empty, but he would rather _die_ than let poor little _orphan_ Tom Riddle _ever_ have that kind of happiness.

“Thank you for your time, sir, but I’m afraid I have to leave. I have a meeting that I delayed for this. If I am not needed . . .”

“Of course, of course. Don’t stay a stranger.”

** _Room of Requirement_ **

He placed the diadem on a cleaned shelf. He should have left immediately after he did the task, but he lingered.

He didn’t know how long he stood in that room, hoping against hope that _she_ would appear, but she never did.

He took a deep breath and pulled the little black box he had carried with him every day for the last thirteen years. He placed the velvet in the center of the diadem’s arms and stroked the item’s lid. He flicked his wrist, and with a barely thought spell, cursed the two to only be found by him or the love of his life.

It physically hurt knowing that he would be the only one to find it.

_She’s dead_.

** _Riddle Manor_ **

_Screaming and raging against the night  
_ _Long forgotten sorrows remembered  
_ _Hatred and despair brought to reignite  
_ _a once burning inferno, now a small ember_

_Hopes and dreams long forgotten  
_ _A diamond locked away out of sight  
_ _A once bright mind, now nothing but rotten  
_ _A denial of nothing but spite._

_Again, falling to the earth.  
_ _Again, falling to the dust.  
_ _Again, falling into a world of disgust.  
_ _Again, he can do nothing but wish for rebirth._

* * *

** _Saturday, December 31, 1960_ **

** _ Malfoy Manor_ **

_Are you sure about this?_ Unkept writing—compared to his own current writing—colored the pages as soon as he opened it.

_It’s to keep you safe, Tom_.

_What about Eden?_

His grip tightened on the quill. _She’s dead. I have long since accepted this fact. It’s time that you did as well._

_I refuse. She’s alive and you know it. Something must have happened, and you’re too much of a coward—_

Voldemort shut the diary and handed it to Abraxas. “Protect it with your _life_.”

The blonde man bowed. “I will, my Lord.”

* * *

** _Wednesday, January 1, 1964_ **

** _ Somewhere in Magical London_ **

His head hurt when he woke, and he stunk of cheap alcohol. A weight rested on his bare chest. It was an arm.

He snapped.

It was too much.

His mind snapped.

His magic lashed out, and the woman’s neck snapped.

His magic snapped, and the room he was in started to crumble.

The naked corpses body snapped.

He _broke_ just as the apartment building collapsed.

* * *

** _Thursday, October 29, 1981_ **

** _ Riddle Manor_ **

“You’re dismissed, Wormtail.”

Once alone, Voldemort let out a vile chuckle, but somewhere in his mind, something buried so deep he wasn’t aware it even existed, mourned.

It mourned for the loss of magical blood.

It mourned for the love he once had.

_I’ll get you back, Eden. One way or another, I’ll get you back_.

* * *

** _Friday, October 30, 1981_ **

** _ Riddle Manor_ **

_He slept and dreamed,  
_ _of smoke and water.  
_ _Of things that gleamed,  
_ _of heat and laughter._

_He dreamt of warmth  
_ _and a warm summer breeze  
_ _of the sun in the North  
_ _and things that please._

_He thought to live, he’d have to die.  
_ _His hopes and dreams could ne’er fly  
_ _But still dreamed did he, of sweet goodbye  
_ _He couldn’t help but ask why I?_

_With breath locked in his throat,  
_ _he sat up and gasped for air._  
_It was hard to see, and hard to note,  
_ _that something was gone, no longer there._

_The world will burn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is officially the end of In My Dreams, and the kind of introduction to part two, In My Realities.
> 
> I hope you guys liked it. I tried writing it in a different style in the beginning and then it shifted to my normal style at the end, and I kind of feel that it fits, but if it seems off, that's why. I also suck at poetry, so that's a thing. 
> 
> Anyway, as for the alternate ending, I have decided to post that in this fic/document/story/thing that you're reading instead of as a separate story multi shot (because yes, apparently I no longer know the meaning of 'one shot' any more) and mark this as completed. I have reasons for doing it this way, mainly because when/if I start writing In My Realities, I'll mark this as uncompleted again so if anyone actually sticks around, you'll know it's being worked on. When/if I start posting In My Realities, I'll move the alternate ending to a seperate story.
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe and that despite all of the horrible stuff in the world that you're able to find things to relieve stress and keep yourself sane/happy. Or insane and happy. I'm not one to judge--especially since I am most definitely the second one.
> 
> I love all of your comments, and I love to hear/read/know that In My Dreams is helping you all cope with everything going on. I'm actually kind of sad that we're coming to an end. 
> 
> Anyway, I love you all.


	36. 35 The End: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... basically I changed a large part of the last couple chapters... I rewrote some things, and they're here to explain the differences, as this is an alternate ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> So, my Quarantine is over--blech--which means I go back to school tomorrow. TT__TT
> 
> Anyway, I finished typing up the first part of the Alternate Ending, and here it is.

** _Saturday, June 23, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_**

Eden grinned against Tom’s lips.

She had just arrived, and he had obviously been waiting for her. His tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, and her mouth fell open as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“How was your day?” he murmured when he pulled away a few minutes later.

“It was good. Hera taught me a new spell that will help in the Task,” she snuggled into his chest, and he laughed softly as he pulled her closer. He lifted her into his arms before he carried her across the room and dropped her on his bed.

“Care to show it to me?” he asked as he laid next to her.

She nodded and sat up. _Horcrux_. The wand spun around on the palm of her hand three times before it pointed towards the nightstand where his diary usually resided and lit up with a bright light. “It’s a tracker spell mixed with a fairy light spell. She made it.”

Tom nodded impressed. He curled his hand around the back of her neck, and instead of pulling her down like she expected him to, he trailed his fingers along the chain of her necklace. He curled his fingers around the locket before he pulled her down next to him by it. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before he pulled away. “I love you,” he murmured.

She grinned. “I love you, too.” She pressed a quick kiss against his lips. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” Between each declaration of love, she’d kiss a part of his face. She continued to do it until he laughed.

“Pest,” he fondly grinned.

“You love me,” she murmured against his lips.

“That I do. If I were to lose you, the world will burn to ashes.”

“Well then,” she started playfully, “you better not lose me.”

He held the locket to his lips and looked into her eyes as he whispered words she didn’t understand. The locket glowed gold for a moment before it returned to normal. He kissed it before he rested it gently against her chest once more.

“What language was that?” she demanded.

“The Tongue of the Aspects.”

“Was it a spell?”

“Yes.”

“What does it do?”

“I’ll tell you when you return,” he murmured before he pulled her to lay next to him, almost on top of him. “Just promise me you won’t take it off.”

“But—”

“Promise me, Eden.” She drew back slightly at the harsh desperation in his voice. “Promise me you’ll leave it on, _no matter what_.”

She stared into his eyes before she nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll leave it on.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

** _Saturday, June 24, 1995_ **

** _ Quidditch Pitch_**

Draco Malfoy hated having to calm psychotic girls. It was annoying on a good day, but when his hand hurt, his head hurt, his vision swayed, his legs weak, and stomach churning with his own worry, it was unbearable.

It sucked.

A lot.

He was too young for that sort of responsibility, and he was far too miserable to be any help to the three girls around him.

He again looked over to his mother—who was speaking to one of the French Ambassadors with Uncle Moony—and wondered why _she_ wasn’t the one comforting the four distraught teenagers.

He turned back to Pansy, Ambrosia, and Hermione. “Hey, everything’s going to be alright. She’s fine,” he tried to soothe.

Ambrosia’s pink eyes shot up to his, and he felt his body begin to stiffen. The pupils began to take on a pointed oval shape, and he regretted speaking as coldness began to seep along his body. “You feel the Blood running thin, don’t you?” she hissed, “something’s _wrong_.”

Hermione weakly nodded along with the raven-haired girl. He frowned at how pale she was. Her hair stuck to her face, which was covered in a light layer of sweat, and her body shook. “Hermione?” he asked softly.

She shook her head and stumbled at the motion. “I’m fine,” she stuttered softly. “I’m just really—” She cut off with a groan of pain and bent over and clutched at her stomach.

“Hermione!?” the three Snakes demanded in a panic.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“I don’t—I don’t—ah!” Her legs collapsed from beneath her, and her body began to shake as Magical Tears—a dark gray line left in their wake—dripped down her face and onto the ground. The ground began to smoke as gashes appeared on Hermione’s upper right and left arms, both forearms, just below her elbow, and two long, shallow cuts on either side of her neck in a diagonal from either side of the hollow of her throat to behind her ears.

“Madam Pomfrey!” he shouted as Ambrosia began to rapidly run scans over Hermione’s spasming form with violently shaking hands.

He didn’t notice the blood on their Prayer Cloths soak through as the Lifeblood began to flow more freely.

“What’s going on?” the matron asked as she stepped into the circle of teens.

“I don’t know—” Ambrosia hissed. “I can’t figure it out and my hand is shaking too much—it looks like Lash-Back—but—”

Hermione’s body bent into a U-shape before a loud wail left her lips and echoed around the privacy ward Pansy summoned hours ago. Draco grabbed her bending form and tried to steady her. Panic began to eat him. Not Eden. Not Hermione. No—no—no—no—not again.

He can’t be helpless again—

A heavy thud behind him.

A high-pitched scream from the stands.

Hermione’s body went still.

“Eden,” Pansy gasped softly.

He turned around, and indeed his sister lay haphazardly in the center of the small clearing between the stands and the hedges. He placed Hermione on the ground in front of him, before he stumbled to his feet, and ran to her. His mother and Uncle Moony both grabbed his shoulders before he made it to her.

Before he could demand why, a bright light left Eden’s locket and hovered above her. The light formed a vaguely feminine shape before it faded with a painful wink.

He fought his way out of his mother’s arms and knelt next to his sister and pulled her still form into his arms.

She was barely breathing.

“Come on, Eden, wake up. Don’t do this,” be begged. He shook her and Pansy and Ambrosia joined him.

Eden’s eyes flickered open. “Draco . . .”

He choked on his tears. “You’re awake,” he cried, “you’re alive!”

She weakly nodded her head before her eyes fluttered closed. “Love you . . . all,” she murmured. Her eyes flickered open for just a moment, long enough for him to see a sliver of green before they closed. He shook her limp form and was oblivious to the other people around him as he begged and begged for her to come back.

“No! No! Don’t do this! Don’t die on me, Eden!”

. . .

“Eden!”

. . .

“Eden!”

. . .

“_Eden_!”

* * *

** _Sunday, June 24, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

Tom startled from his studies when a loud thud sounded behind him.

He turned in his chair and stared at Eden’s crumpled body for a moment before he leapt out of the uncomfortable chair, ran to her, and pulled her limp form into his arms. “Eden?” he begged.

She groaned. “It hurts, Tom,” she whispered. “It hurts so much.” She began to sob.

“Hey, shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now. You _are_ safe, right?”

She weakly nodded against his collar bone. “Yeah. Safe.”

He began to chant, and red mist filled the air before it wrapped around the love of his life, and he collapsed behind her as more than half of his Core and a quarter of his blood wrapped around and healed her.

She groaned. “You . . . I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“How about ‘I love you’?” he suggested as he sat up and pulled her into his lap, so her side pressed against his front. His head spun from the sudden loss of blood and magic, but it wasn’t something that would be debilitating.

She smiled and weakly tilted her head up. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you, Tom,” she whispered.

“I love you, Eden.”

“Noah.”

“What?” His head tilted to the side.

“My full name is Noah Eden Potter, and I was born July 31, 1980.”

“You won,” he breathlessly said.

She nodded. “Only because I had you.”

There was something more, he realized, something she wasn’t telling him. “What happened?”

She grabbed his fingers and began to play with them. What had happened? Was his Eden alright? Who needed to be added to his Kill List? “Eden?” She shook her head as tears began to roll down her face. He pulled her closer to him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Eden,” he murmured into her ear, “talk to me.”

“I met you,” she finally answered.

His heart stuttered in his chest. “What?”

She swallowed before she shoved her head beneath his chin, and he immediately tucked her as close to him as he could. “The Dark Wizard who attacked Leif and I in 1981 . . . he . . . he kidnapped me to use me in a Ritual that would give him his body back.

“Leif?” he asked. “Is that Bunny?” She nodded. “Why didn’t he take _him_?”

“Because _I_ apparently was the one who killed him.” She tugged at her dragonhide sports bra and he saw a raw, red scar he had never seen before that looked as if she had received it earlier that day. “I got this that night. It’s always looked like this.”

He nodded slowly. “what does this have to do with meeting me in your time?” Had his plans _not_ worked?

“The Dark Wizard who attacked us . . . his name was . . . is . . . Lord Voldemort.”

His heart stuttered to a full stop and his breath caught painfully in his throat. “What?” he gasped in the softest of whispers.

Did she know—?

Of course, she _knew_.

_I met you . . . his name was . . . is . . . _

She knew. She would hate him forever. What the _hell_ happened to destroy his carefully thought out plans?

She nodded against his shoulder, and his heart kicked back into gear with a painful lurch when her breathing hitched, and the wet spot from her tears brushed harshly against his skin. “Yeah. You—he . . . gave me my memory of first year back,” she whispered, and he _knew_.

She was never going to agree. Not now, not ever.

He had ruined everything, and he didn’t even know exactly what it was that he had done to do so.

“He—he tried to kill me then, too.” His nose and eyes began to burn. “My touch though . . . it killed the body he was in.”

Tom tightened his hold on her.

No.

“You’re safe, Eden. It was the past. It’s not going to happen again. Any of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I won’t let it happen again.”

“Tom—it _has_ to happen again. Who knows what Hell I’ve released upon threads of _reality_ just by telling you all of this.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “It’s not going to happen again.”

“Tom—”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“Marry me, Eden.”

She began to shake her head, and his cold, dead heart shattered. “I’m not really here,” she choked, and the look in her eyes pieced his fragile heart back together and forced it to beat with reluctant hope. “I want to, but I’m not real here.”

“You _are_ real. You _can_ be real.”

“I can’t—”

“You can.”

“How?”

“I created a spell using the Magick’s of Olde. It’ll safely bring your body back here, and we’ll be together forever. No more time limits.”

“How?” she repeated.

“It uses Space Magic, Time Magick, Magick of the Aspects, and Magick of the Ancients. It’s like a really amped up summoning spell.”

“But—the Price—”

“Worth it.”

“Even if it’s your life?”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear. “_Horcruxes_,” he whispered as he pressed his Ring into the palm of her hand. “The needed Rituals have already been prepared if that’s the Price I have to Pay to have you by my side.” She shivered, and he began to nibble on her ear. “Marry me, Eden.”

“You really want to be married to a fourteen-year-old?”

“We’d wait until you were seventeen.”

He licked her throat. “Can—Can I say goodbye first? To everyone in my time?”

“If you met me in your time, we shouldn’t risk you not coming back. There’s a chance that the connection between the two of us has been broken, and you won’t come back again. If we’re going to do it, we have to do it now.”

“If the connection was broken, why did I come back?”

“The locket. The spell that I put on it before you left last night would guarantee your arrival one last time. It takes two days to prepare, so I can’t Cast it again. Not without risking you not coming back.”

“What if I had died?

“It would have brought you back just before you would have died, from wherever you were in the world.”

She was silent, and his hope, a weak ember in a maelstrom of harsh wind and rain, began to extinguish, and with it, all the light and beauty in the world. He was going to lose her because of something he hadn’t even done.

She shook her head, and his heart shattered.

He was losing her for something he would move Heaven and Hell to make never happen.

“Alright. I’ll marry you.”

He pressed his lips to hers in a fast, heated, desperate kiss. “I love you, Eden.”

“I love you, too.”

He said nothing about the tears on her face as he drew the chalk circle on the floor of his dorm room. When she knelt in the circle he cupped her face in his hands and wiped away her tears. “Eden?”

She swallowed and shook her head and smiled weakly at him. “I’ll be fine. It’ll just . . . it’ll take some time.”

He didn’t understand, but he nodded once, kissed her twice, whispered three words, and began.

* * *

** _Monday, June 25, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

Eden awoke in Tom’s arms.

The sun was beginning to leak in through the window, and her body felt like it was on fire. It had felt like that since Tom had completed the Ritual to bring her, her Trunk, and her pearl bag back to the past.

She shifted slightly and whimpered softly when the insanely soft nightgown Tom had conjured for her and dressed her in brushed against her skin.

“Eden?” he slurred, “what’s wrong?”

“I still feel like I’m burning up.”

He frowned and carefully touched her forehead. Through the eternally scorching pain in her soul, she felt the realness of his touch and the tingling sparks that it brought to her—pleasant sparks (unlike the fire that mere breathing caused). “You have a fever,” he muttered, “you stay here, I’m going to go get Noah.” He was halfway to the door before he paused and looked back at her with a strange look on his face. “The _other_ Noah.”

She smiled at him and winced internally—and maybe a bit externally—at the movement. “One day, when I will be able to appreciate it, I want to hear you say my name. See if you can make it bearable.”

“You make my name bearable,” he murmured softly as he walked back towards her and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Exactly.” She yawned and nestled into the covers, and he gently tucked the heavy blanket around her shoulders.

He pressed a barely-there kiss to her forehead and frowned again. “I’ll be back.”

“M’kay,” she murmured, already on the cusp of sleep.

He kissed her head again, and the door shutting was the last thing she heard before she fell into the enchanting world of Morpheus’ Spell.

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“She’ll be fine, Tom. She’s got a Magical Fever, and a moderate case of Lash-Back, but that’s nothing too much to worry about with how powerful you are. Just keep an eye on her magic, and if it appears to start attacking her again, just calm her magic like you typically do.”

Tom nodded at Noah’s words. They made sense. They were logical. They stated everything he already _knew_.

But, despite that, he still couldn’t calm down while his girlfriend lay sweating in his bed, bundled under the covers and multiple heating charms and was shivering almost violently in her sleep.

He couldn’t erase the terrifying memory of the Ritual from his mind.

It had gone perfectly. All of the research, all of his theories, expectations, and fears had happened just as he thought they would.

(just as he feared they would)

Her temporary body—or whatever her soul was in whenever she visited him in her sleep—had vanished for a moment before it had reappeared in a blinding white light, just as he had thought it might.

Her magic had rebelled against his mighty will for a moment before it calmed, just like he hoped it might.

The belongings she used the most had appeared in a cluttered pile next to her, just as he had expected.

Her magic Lashed out and began to eat her alive, just as he had feared.

He had seen Magical Tears before—he had seen _Eden’s_ Magical Tears before—but never had he seen someone’s face drenched in their Core as it ate them alive and tried to rip them to pieces.

He had quickly begun to Stabilize her magic—he had already been Stabilizing it a little before in precaution—and it had immediately begun to calm.

It had taken an agonizingly long hour to get it to calm—he figured it would have been faster had he not been as cautious as he had been—but once it was, the Ritual had finished. He knew it had. His Eden was there with him, and never would she leave him again.

He wouldn’t let her.

After his hands had stopped shaking from fear of losing her when she was finally _so close in his arms_, he had carefully picked up her unconscious body and washed her with lukewarm water, just as she liked it. She had woken up for a few minutes while he had been washing her blood-matted hair and had begun to cry about pain.

_It hurts so much, Tom. It never hurts this much when I’m with you . . . your touch . . . it feels real . . . you finally feel real_.

He was still very much confused about the feverish babble of words meant, but he was intent on getting answers as soon as she was able to give them.

(could they perhaps be connected to the way his hand tingles with power whenever he touches her now?)

“Tom,” a weak voice murmured.

He was snapped out of his mind and he hovered over her almost instantly and began to visually check her quaking body over. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Do you still hurt? What do you need? Tell me how to help you, Eden.”

Eden laughed at Tom and smiled softly when Noah snorted from the side of the bed. “I’ll be fine, Tom. Your worry made me wake up.”

It really had. Kind of. His magic was stressed, and it had an unfortunate habit of clinging to hers whenever that happened.

“How?”

She shifted slightly and winced. “I heard the impending arrival of Babble Ville. It’s stopped now, so my distraction is working.”

He laughed softly and kissed her even softer—she still whimpered, even though it was barely even a brush of the lips. He pulled away with a wince. “Well then, if you can still make jokes like that, I guess you’re fine.”

She nodded and turned her attention to Noah. “Thanks.”

He pompously bowed. “It was a pleasure, my Lady.” She giggled softly. “But, on a serious note, take it easy. No Magical Travel and no magic _use_ unless you’re in a life or death situation until the Fever is gone. Considering who’s taking care of you, I’m pretty confidant when I say you _won’t_ be using magic until the Fever has abated. The Lash-Back is moderate, but it’s at a point that by the proper care, it should be gone by the end of the day, at the latest tomorrow afternoon. If it acts up, and continues to do so, I recommend taking a Magic Relaxation Potion that lasts for a minimum of two days, maximum five.”

She weakly nodded her thanks, the words he had spoken going in one ear and out the other. Oh well. Tom would know what to do. Tom lightly stroked her hair before he stood and escorted Noah out of the room.

When he came back, she flinched out of the light slumber she had fallen into. “Rest, my dove,” he whispered as he gently wrapped his arms around her.

She tilted her head up, and he rewarded her with a kiss to the nose, and she fell into a land of dreams—for the second time in what seemed like forever.

* * *

** _Wednesday, June 27, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“What are you doing?”

Tom look up from the parchment he was writing on and smiled at Eden. “As Head Boy, I have to give a speech at graduation on Saturday.”

She perked up slightly and winced as her blood throbbed for a moment. “I get to see you graduate!” she cheered.

He stood and made his way over to her. He sat down next to her and smiled softly. “And _I_ get to see _you_ graduate, my dearest.”

If possible, she got even more excited. Tom would be at _her_ graduation! He was going to be there, something that she had wished for, for a long time. In her mind, a picture of him sitting in next to _tata_—

Her thoughts froze, and her eyes began to burn.

She had left him.

She had left them _all_.

For Tom.

What if something happened, and he didn’t want to be with her anymore? Then leaving them would have been a waste, and—and—regret would—

Tom’s lips pressing against her forehead made her pause. She couldn’t think through the pain. “What’s wrong?” he asked after her whimpers died.

“I left them,” she croaked.

He looked at her with muted sorrow in his eyes. He didn’t really care that she had left them. She was with him. That was all that mattered to him. She was all he had.

It was one of the main things that made her stay.

“I know,” he whispered softly.

“What if something happens, and you leave me?” she demanded. What if he found someone else? What if he began to hate her now that their time wasn’t limited?

He laughed softly. “I’m not going to die, Eden.”

That’s not—why—he—

She felt like screaming.

“What if you decide you don’t want to be with me anymore?” she demanded hysterically.

His mouth fell open as understanding filled his eyes. “I’m not letting you go, Eden. You’re mine for eternity, remember? We’re going to fight, and we’re going to say and do things that we’ll regret, but we’ll move on, just as we always have. We’ll grow stronger and closer together because of it. Nothing’s going to change now that you’re here fulltime, Eden. You’re _mine_, and I’m not letting you go.”

She weakly laughed. “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead and frowned. “Your fever should be going down by now.”

He began to stand, but stopped when she clutched onto his hand. “Tom, Magical Fevers can take up to two weeks to recover from. Noah said it was a mild one, so I’ll be fine as long as I don’t get too warm or use too much magic.”

He frowned. “Everything I’ve read—”

“Is not as advanced as everything _I’ve_ read, Tom.”

His mouth fell into an O. “Right.”

“You can go into my library if you want. I have a few books on Magical illnesses that affect Pure Cores. I got them shortly after we discovered my Core type.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ve already mucked the timeline up enough with me being back here, that I don’t think allowing you to read my books so you’ll stop worrying will have too much of an affect on the cosmic design of the universe.”

He laughed softly and reached out to stroke her cheek, but stopped at the last moment when he remembered her condition. While Tom was a fairly pleasant distraction, the thoughts of how she just _left _her friends and family _without saying goodbye_ still ate at her. Tom grabbed her hand through the blanket. “Do you think you’re up to walking for a bit? Or to having me carry you?”

_I don’t think you should be alone right now_, was unspoken, but the words still echoed violently in her head.

She thought for a moment before she nodded. “Yeah. I think so. There’s cooling charms on the Trunk, so I shouldn’t overheat, but if I do, I have a lot of bathtubs in there because of Cissica and Dragon—” her voice cracked on their names and her throat closed.

He shifted closer to her. “It’s okay to cry for them. It’s okay to mourn them.”

Almost as if her emotions had been waiting for permission, something snapped in her chest and flooded her blood, almost like a tsunami. Tom wordlessly pulled her into his arms and gently held her as she cried. As time passed, she’d babble off stories about her friends, using their real names instead of the ones she had given—typically in a frantic, last ditch effort—to keep the timeline safe.

“I don’t know which option would have been worse,” she started after nearly an hour of sobbing into Tom’s chest, “staying here, or staying there.”

“Staying there,” Tom answered immediately. “Had you stayed there, had you not come back, I would have burned the world to ashes trying to get you back. Had you stayed there, everything that had happened, would have happened.” He swallowed, the sound harsh against her ear pressed against his neck. “Had you stayed there, you would have lost me. Had you stayed there, I would likely be too insane from losing you, and probably would have started a war. Staying here,” he murmured softly, his frantic tone soothing into something like honey, “you get to see your friends and family grow up. You can make a difference for them, and you can make sure that they don’t have the life that you had. All of the prejudice, all of the bigotry, it can all be gone.”

“Promise?”

“I can’t promise complete success by the time they’re born—” He pulled away and made sure she looked into his eyes. Fiery passion burned bright within them. “—but I will Promise success. No matter how long it takes, no matter the Costs to be Paid, we will be free to practice Magic in its purest forms without fear of unfair retribution.”

She loosely wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him down to her while she dug the nails of her free hand into her thigh in prep. She pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss, and he moaned softly. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered against her lips before he kissed her again.

The kiss remained soft, just barely more than a brushing of their lips. Despite that fact though, it was still addicting with the way her lips tingled over the pain, and her skin tingled where he touched her.

“Me too,” she whispered. She pried her fingers from her right thigh and ran them through his hair and smiled almost shily at him.

He smirked softly and kissed her again, only he deepened it slightly to a somewhat normal soft kiss. She hummed softly and tightened her hold on him. He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Eden.” He kissed her. His tongue stroked gently against her lips when he pulled away. “I love you, Noah,” he whispered against her lips before he kissed her again, firmer.

The pain began to flair above the addicting tingles, but she desperately tried to ignore it as her heart fluttered in her chest at the pleasant sound of her birthname falling from his lips.

“I’m flattered, truly, I am. However, I don’t think that the situation you’re in is the kind of situation to be declaring your love to _me_.”

Eden whimpered as Tom startled against her. He immediately pulled away from her and scowled deeply at Noah. “You didn’t knock.”

His voice rumbled in his throat, and heat thumped through her veins.

“I did. Five times. I also called your name a few times. Now, I have a couple questions for the little lady. Possibly more.”

“I’m not little,” she complained tiredly.

“Yes, you are,” both males instantly replied.

“You really are small,” another voice piped up, “on par with a cute kitten you are.” Androtheny stepped into the room with Abraxas, Orion, Theodosius, Marcellus, Amarilless, Julian, Evan, and Marcus on his tail.

“How did the competition go, little sis?”

Eden rolled her eyes at the fond nickname spoken by Orion. “I won,” she answered simply.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Noah held his hand up, and the questions stopped. “I have one for you, one that I assume will take quite a long time to explain and will answer a few others as well.” Eden shifted closer into Tom, and he kissed the side of her head. She could feel him trembling as he held himself back from holding her tighter.

“Be wise, Noah,” Tom hissed.

“Of course, my Lord. Eden, can you tell me why your blood tests came back with your birthday being July 31, 1980?”

She tensed. “Uhh—uhm—I don’t—how to explain . . . uh . . . faulty test?” she eventually squeaked. Tom snorted behind her, and she weakly elbowed him in the gut.

“That’s what I thought as well. At least, until all ten tests that I ran on your sample came back the exact same.”

She slumped and waved her hands. “You explain,” she grumbled at Tom.

He chuckled softly. “Eden’s from the future. Every time that she’d go to sleep in her time, she would come here. Three hours there was one hour here.”

“Was?” Orion asked. “why are you speaking in the past-tense?”

Eden looked down and began to play with Tom’s fingers. “After I completed the Tournament . . .. Tom brought me back. It was my final decision—” Her words choked off as _tata’s_ face flashed through her mind.

Understand crossed the Knight’s faces. “They think you died.”

“Yes.”

“Well . . . damn. That sucks.”

“No kidding,” she scoffed.

Orion and Julian pulled the couches and armchairs over from the center of the room and sat in front of her and Tom. The other Knights filled in around them and a couple more chairs were conjured so everyone was comfortable.

“Don’t worry, little sis,” Orion soothed, “we’re here for you.”

A smile twitched her lips. “Thanks.”

He began to bounce excitedly in his chair like a little puppy. “Tell me, do we know each other in the future?”

She laughed softly and snuggled closer to Tom. “The only ones of you that I was somewhat close to, were Abraxas and Noah.” Orion pouted. “But, we do have a connection.”

He perked up. “How? How? How?”

“Your son was my godfather. It was blood adoption.”

His eyes widened and an unholy screech filled the room. “That makes me your grandfather!” he cheered.

Behind her, a choked sound left Tom’s mouth. “What’s wrong with you?” He remained silent as his face grew abnormally pale. “Tom?”

Marcus, Evan, Androtheny, and Abraxas all began to wheeze with laughter. “I think,” Noah started through his own laughter, “that the age difference between the two of you just clicked in our fearless leader’s head.”

The room was quickly filled with roaring laughter as it clicked for everyone else what had just happened. She looked to Tom who nodded slowly. He was pale with wide eyes. “Hey, you’re eighteen. I’m fourteen. That’s all that matters. It’s not like we’re _physically_ or _mentally_ 53 and a half years apart.” A choked groan left his throat. “Tom?”

He shook his head and bit his lips.

“Nope. Not going to think about it. Absolutely bloody _nope_.”

* * *

** _Thursday, June 28, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

“Tom?”

“Yes, my beloved?”

“The Ritual you created to bring me back, how long did it take?” she asked softly. Her words were slurred, and she struggled to keep her eyes open due to the late hour, but she wanted—needed—to know.

“Two years of research, and then another year creating it, and working out the math, and a year testing it. I tested it on your hair,” he added after a moment.

His fingers ran through her hair. “My hair?”

“Yes. Whenever you’d leave, if some of your hair had fallen out, it would disappear about an hour after you’d leave. When the Ritual was finished, I’d test it on your hair, and when that finally began to stay, I began to alter it so your things would come back. I only tried to get your quills, ink bottles, or blank pieces of parchment. When I got it to the point that I could get all three back at once, every single time, I decided it was completed and it would be safe for you to come back.”

She huffed and breathed in his scent. “At least now I know where all of my non-steel tipped quills and black ink kept going. I thought someone was stealing them from my bag.” She paused. “Wait. Is that why you kept laughing at me!?” she wailed. “Because you kept stealing them?”

He soothed her with a gentle kiss to her nose. “I would never laugh at you.”

“Liar.”

“Hey, I let you take them back after your professors started complaining about the colored ink.”

“I thought I was taking _your_ ink. Not having mine returned.”

He just huffed a small laugh and kissed her head again. “Sleep, my love.”

* * *

** _Friday, June 29, 1945_ **

** _ Head Dorms_ **

Softly spoken words pulled Eden out of her pain induced sleep.

“—all taken care of.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. The paperwork is done, and as of tomorrow night, Eden Black will exist.”

“I’m surprised your parents agreed to this,” Tom muttered softly. Fingers ran gently through her hair.

“I’m not. When I told them they needed to be put under an Unbreakable _and_ Veritaserum, along with myself, they were intrigued and extremely willing to listen. They’ve seen the advantages to claiming a time traveler as a Hidden Daughter. I fear she’s going to be questioned heavily on what to invest in, though.”

“Wha’s Hidd’n Daugh’r?” Eden slurred.

“How do you feel?” Tom demanded softly.

“Fire and pain.”

“Still?”

“Read the books, Tom,” she grumbled. She shifted slightly and winced, and Tom sighed—it sounded more like a whimper though. She opened her eyes and stared at Orion who leaned against the back of the couch. “What’s a Hidden Daughter?”

“It’s a legitimate Pureblooded girl who was hidden away from Society and most extended family for a number of reasons, the main one being illness. They’re often introduced sometime after they turn 15, but it’s not rare that they’re introduced earlier.”

Eden nodded. “What would the excuse be that I was hidden?”

“Your magic.”

She paused, and then rage— “Excuse me?” she hissed. Tom’s hand clamped harshly against her bicep, and her raging magic was quickly subdued as she wailed in pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered before he pressed a kiss to her head. “Allow him to explain before you get worked up again.” He loosened his grasp and nodded against her head.

“There is a school in Egypt,” Orion started hesitantly. “The Egyptian—”

“School of Arcadian Magick. I know. It was proven to being an Ancient School of Magic founded by Lady Circe and not having anyone within its halls since the fall of the Roman Empire.”

“When was this proven?” Tom demanded softly.

“Uhm—1953, I believe.”

“Who was the person who discovered it?”

She shrugged after a moment of thought. “Don’t know. I’m pretty sure I own a book or two with the answer though. My paternal grandfather was really into archeology after he retired.”

Tom squeezed her hand softly and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple before he went to her Trunk and opened it and disappeared into it’s colossal depths.

“So, not only did he bring _you_ back 50 years, an impossible feat on it’s own, he brought your belongings back as well?”

She smiled softly. “Only the things that I used most. He iddn’t want to risk my wand getting left behind.”

Orion moved to sit on the couch—which still hadn’t moved from its altered position due to the Knights spending almost every waking hour with her and Tom—and ran his hands up and down his thighs. It was a nervous tick she had noticed when he trained with her and Tom.

A choked sound left the sixteen year old. “Eden? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? What did I do?” he panicked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I was remembering something.”

He relaxed—kind of. “What were you remembering?” he asked gently.

“I learned to fight hand-to-hand from Sirius—”

“My son, right?”

“Yeah. And he learned it from you.”

“And I learned it from you.” He laughed softly and ran his fingers through his hair, and then back on his thighs. “It turns out you taught yourself how to fight then, little sis.”

She nodded and picked at her cuticles. “What’s bothering you?” she asked as she rolled onto her side to face him fully, and groaned softly at the pain that spiked through her spine.”

“You’re not mad . . . are you?”

“Mad about what?”

“Legally becoming my little sister.”

She frowned for a moment. “No. Why would I be mad?” He just stared at her. “By your parents adopting me, it’s easier for me to enter Society in this time without too many questions being asked. I’m actually quite grateful.”

“You—you—what?”

“Eden is a forgiving person,” Tom answered as he climbed out of the Trunk with three books in his hands. She frowned as her eyes read the words _The Rise and Fall of_ on the partially covered spine of the bottom book. “Merlin knows she’s forgiven me for things that she shouldn’t have.” He sat next to Orion on the couch. “She’s also a kind, loving, and grateful person. She treats people the way she wants to be treated until she snaps. And then you should run as fast and as far as you can.”

“You don’t run,” she stated simply.

“That’s because I’m typically the one to make you snap, my beloved,” he said as he handed one of the archeology books to Orion and began to flip through the other archeology book. He slipped _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ between his thigh and the arm rest. “It’s my job to make sure you don’t accidentally kill yourself when you’re in one of your adorable little rages.” She glared at him. “There’s my little teddy bear,” he cooed softly.

“You’re lucky that I can’t use magic right now, because if I could, you’d have large rabbit ears still out of the top of your head.”

“Awe,” Orion sarcastically cooed as he lazily flipped through his book, “he could be your pet bunny.”

Eden froze as pain lanced her head, heart and magic. Shortly after she had permanently moved to the past, Tom had to remove the Twin Bond before it could Snap. It shouldn’t have snapped, due to the qualifications needed to _make_ it Snap—the murder of one twin by the other—but he’s always been quite a bit overcautious when it came to her health and safety.

Despite having the Bond removed, it didn’t help the pain that she still felt as leaving her twin. Sure, they weren’t close, sure, it wasn’t strong, sure he had done some pretty inexcusable things . . . but he was a child.

He hadn’t known any better.

She was a child too, but the way she had been raised, the way she had been abused and hated by her parents had forced her to grow up before her time. It hadn’t helped at all when she started time traveling and met Tom, who became her closest friend, and her greatest example of how someone of her status should act. He taught her how to act, how to get what she wanted, when she wanted it.

He taught her what unconditional love was before either of them even knew what it was.

Holding Leif responsible for _everything_ that he had done, was cruel. It was cruel when she remembered the way he’d sneak up to the attic late into the night, and the two of them would climb out of the rusty old window and onto a decaying piece of wood that was for decoration, but had been adapted into a ledge for their use. It was cruel when she remembered how he’d hold her after Lily would beat her black and blue.

It was cruel when she remembered the glimpse of tears in his eyes she had gotten after she had returned from that small graveyard.

It was _heartless_ to hold him responsible when she had heard his frantic shouts as he pulled her from Draco’s arms and begged her not to die, just before she fell asleep.

Had Leif been a few years older than her, and if he had still treated her the way he had, she knew that forgiving him wouldn’t have been so simple. It would have hurt to not forgive him. The resentment would build up inside of her, ooze through her blood, and poison her skin and soul until she snapped.

Like she did with Krum.

_He_ had been an adult. _He_ had known exactly what he had been doing. _He_ found malicious glee in the pain he had caused her.

Leif didn’t—_hadn’t_ known any better.

“Damn it, Orion,” Tom hissed before he closed his book and moved towards her.

“What did I say?”

“She gave everyone in her time names to protect the timeline. Bunny is what she called her twin brother.”

“OH.” The bed moved as Tom climbed behind her and carefully draped his arm around her side and slid one under her neck. He shifted forward until his chest touched her back, and he pressed a kiss to her hair. “The Bond, is it gone? Did it break?”

“Yes, it’s gone. I removed it after I got her magic to stop trying to kill her. Despite their relationship, it was still quite strong . . .. I’m just grateful it didn’t Snap. She doesn’t need to feel that kind of pain . . .” Tom trailed off.

“He was just a kid,” Eden gurgled through her tears. “Just a kid.”

“I know, my love. I know.”

A kiss to the top of her head was the last thing she was conscious of before she fell asleep.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Tom laughed softly when his eyes finally found the name of the archaeologist who discovered that the Ancient Egyptian School of Arcadian Magic wasn’t a viable excuse for Eden to sudden transfer from to Hogwarts.

His Eden had fallen asleep about an hour prior, and his Knights had joined him and Orion fifteen minutes ago.

“What?” Noah demanded softly from where he was going over Eden’s medical scans. Lord and Lady Black wanted a full medical history—down to the last papercut—and since Noah was the only one with the proper knowledge of healing—and Eden—he was the one to do it.

(the occasional gnashing of teeth and pulses of magic from the typically calm man was concerning—it also might have made him want to read the report even more than he already did)

“The person who discovered that the Egyptian School of Arcadian Magick hasn’t been used in millennia is none other than our youngest member, Julian.”

Said boy squeaked in excitement, and then again in fear. “Me? But—doing so means that Eden is caught and that will create a world of trouble for all of us!”

“Hmm,” Tom agreed, not at all concerned with crushing the boy’s dreams. “It says here that it was the start of a very successful career for you, and because of it, you were able to get funding to—” His eyes widened.

“What? What did I do? Oh, man. You’re going to kill me for something I haven’t even done yet, aren’t you?”

“Orion.”

“Yes, my Lord?” They all knew that _now_ more than ever was a time for the utmost respect.

“Contact your mother and father. Tell them to come up with a different solution as to why Eden didn’t go to Hogwarts due to her magic.”

“What? Why?”

“Am I going to die now? Will it be a peaceful death? No . . . of course not. I don’t deserve a peaceful death. I deserve to suffer for something I haven’t done—” The apathetic mutterings reached Tom’s ears, and he was concerned.

To be honest, he had always been concerned about the fifth year, one of the reasons he had reached out to the boy in their early years at Hogwarts—Eden being another large part of that reason.

In some strange sense, Tom felt they were similar. Somehow, two boys, different ages, different circumstances, different _everything_ were similar. Not in power—_definitely_ not there. Not even in personality. The two couldn’t be more opposite if they tried. But it was the boy’s demeaner. On the outside, Julian was practically a puppy dog, but on the inside, he was a black ball of depression that would ooze out to the surface every once in a while.

The boy who had had everything growing up, who had everything thrown into his lap by his Pureblooded parents, hated life. Hated living so much, that in his second year, just after he hit puberty, he tried killing himself. He had failed because Tom happened to find him moments after the cutting spell sliced from one side of his stomach to the other, but still.

Tom had taken him under his wing, and he had begun working with Julian in an attempt to bury that part of him—maybe not completely, but enough that he could smile without pain echoing in his eyes.

“Julian.”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Enough.”

“Yes, my Lord.” It was silent for a moment as his Knights tried to comfort the boy. “Am I going to die?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Julian, if you follow the same career path, you’ll get funding to locate, excavate, and curate the burial sights of Morgana, Merlin, and Mordred.”

Everyone’s mouths dropped, and a small smile crossed Julian’s face, and for the first time, a small spark of joy was seen in the lifeless orbs for just a moment. Just a moment, but it was enough. It was proof that Tom’s time _wasn’t_ being wasted.

“I dunno why you’d wanna see crusty dusty skel’tons, but fine by me,” Eden slurred. “They smelled bad,” she mumbled. She turned in his embrace and buried her nose into his chest. His heart thumped, and he smiled when she breathed deeply, and her tense shoulders relaxed minutely. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “The on’y cool thin’ about it was the books.”

“You’ve seen it?” he asked softly.

“Hmm. Malfoys took me during the summer after third year. Funnest trip ever.”

Tom’s eyes flicked up to Abraxas at the sound of a sniff. The blonde’s Pureblood Mask quickly faded as a gentle smile took over his face. He met Tom’s eyes, and he lifted a brow, and a short, soft nod was received.

_I’m pleased_, the blonde mouthed.

Tom understood. He pressed a kiss to Eden’s head.

He understood better than most probably ever would.

* * *

** _Saturday, June 30, 1945_ **

** _ Hogwarts Grounds_ **

Tom met Eden’s eyes and winked at her.

She sat with the Black family, Orion on her left, Arcturus—who was a carbon copy of Sirius (or was it the other way around?)—on her right, with Melania next to him.

Lucretia and Walpurga were graduating as well, and she was more than slightly worried. She hadn’t met Lucretia in her time, and she still hadn’t been introduced to her in this time, so to say she was panicking would be an understatement.

Her place in Society wouldn’t settle unless she agreed to go with it—seeing as they’d be sisters—but . . . when she considered the fact that she was engaged to a Prewitt, maybe she would be as equally accepting of Eden. And if not accepting, at least be willing to pretend that she’s _not_ adopted—she looked too much like a Black to tell people that she’s adopted (especially with the eye glamour they placed on her before they left the Head Dorms that morning).

Tom stood, and it brought her out of her world of fear.

“Good afternoon,” he started, “it’s a pleasure to be able to speak with you all . . .” Even though Tom had read her the speech twice before, it still made her tear up with how he delivered it.

He could rule the world _without_ bloodshed.

Tom sat down and the Head Girl—a prissy Ravenclaw who Tom enjoyed mocking far too much—stood to give her own speech.

He met her eyes again and smiled softly.

_I love you_, she mouthed.

His smiled widened, and he winked again. _I love you, too_.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

That night, she stood in the bathroom, leaning against the counter as she covered her face to muffle her sobs.

This was her new life, and she better get used to it before she drug everyone around her into a pit of pure agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it. Hope the rewritten parts made sense. If not, I'm sorry. I have discovered that I am incapable of writing fluff without angst. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you're all staying safe and healthy.
> 
> I have no idea when I'll post the next chapter. Good news is I only have 100 hours left in school, which is about two and a half weeks, so, maybe a month? I dunno. I start working immediately upon being licensed, so... hopefully before the end of the year. 
> 
> (if I don't find time to write before then, I might die of withdrawal)


	37. 36 The End: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Anything labeled 'The End: Part #' is an ALTERNATE ENDING! It is not what was originally planned. This is just what is being posted for those who don't want to stick around for the year or two it will take for me to write In My Realities.
> 
> Happy late birthday, Eden. Sorry I didn't get this up yesterday.

** _Tuesday, July 31, 1945_ **

** _ Black Manor_ **

Settling into life as Eden Black wasn’t as difficult as she had thought it was going to be.

Society had easily accepted the story of strong, uncontrolled magic being the reason she was a Hidden Daughter—apparently (and don’t ask her, ask Melania) when she was born, she blew up the Containment Orb that had been used to keep Melania’s magic under control during the difficult pregnancy that required her to be on bedrest for a majority of it (it helped that Melania _had_ had a difficult pregnancy that ended in a miscarriage—and infertility—around the same time Eden was ‘born’)—especially when she got startled and blew some things up at her Introduction Ball.

She had nearly cursed Tom for how hard he had laughed at her.

Instead of saying she attended a school in a foreign country that specialized with young witches and wizards like herself, she had been privately tutored by the best of the best—the tutors that had been named had all been put under many intense sessions of memory altering (which she highly disapproved of) by Tom, Arcturus, and Uncle Pollux.

Lucretia, her new older sister, was absolutely fascinated with her and completely _adored_ having a little sister. She had tried many times to teach her ‘new, high end beauty charms’, but Eden already knew most of them because of Narcissa.

Lucretia _hated_ Narcissa.

Eden still cried herself to sleep every few days, and she was beginning to think that Tom knew she was upset because of some spell or what not—that, or Orion was a lying, cheating little _snitch_ who needed to _painfully burn in the pits of Hell_—because she’d always wake up the next morning with his arms wrapped tightly around her while Abyss pouted at the foot of the bed.

Tom had stayed the same. Mostly. The changes weren’t big. They weren’t . . . _there_ enough to make her regret going back in time. He was gentler with her, more affectionate, and _somehow_, he had grown far more possessive of her. He spent quite a lot of time with her, which made her simultaneously happy and sad—only because there was _something_ that he wasn’t telling her.

Other than those differences, she basked in the familiar. He was still a bloodthirsty bastard who constantly threatened his Knight’s with Eternal Pain. He was still selfish and overprotective of what he deemed his. He was still the smartest man that she knew.

The door creaked open, and she was yanked out of her thoughts by the bed dipping on either side of her before Lucretia and Orion tackled her and knocked the air out of her lungs.

“Happy fifteenth birthday!” they screamed—_shrieked_—in her ears.

Eden winced and tried to shove her siblings off of her to no avail. “I’m not going to be able to hear after the day ends, am I?”

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Lucretia giggled.

Eden groaned. “But—I _like_ hearing.”

“And we like _destroying_ that hearing,” Orion quipped lightly as he began to stroke her hair. Her eyelids began to flutter, and she started to drift back asleep.

“No hearing will be destroyed if _I_ have anything to say about it.”

A wide smiled curled her lips, and Eden sat up and pushed her siblings away when they tried to pull her down. She punched Orion in the stomach and smiled at Tom when he laughed softy. He casually leaned against the door frame and his arms were crossed over his chest, and his legs crossed at the ankles as he smiled softly at her.

(she couldn’t help but notice the way his hair wasn’t as neat as it usually was, or the way dark shadows lingered under his eyes)

She struggled out of her siblings’ grasps, leapt out of bed, and launched herself at Tom. He laughed deeply as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his fractured soul.

“Happy birthday, my love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she melted further into him, and he _somehow_ tightened his grasp on her.

“**I missed you**,” she hissed to him.

“**You saw me last night**,” he murmured fondly into her hair.

She pouted. “**I still missed you**.”

He kissed the top of her head. “**And I missed you**.”

Lucretia somehow wormed her way between the two of them. It was a special ability she and Orion shared, Eden and Tom had quickly discovered. “There is absolutely _no_ _time for kissing_!” she demanded as she pulled Eden away from Tom. “Out! Both of you! It’s my job to get my darling little sister ready for the day, and you two filthy _males_ can’t be here.”

Tom looked Eden from head to toe and bit his lower lip as fire burned in his eyes. “**Such a pity**,” he hissed. He laughed when she flushed a bright red and gently pushed Lucretia to the side. He tilted Eden’s head up and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her face and making her eyes flutter.

“Promise?”

He kissed her again. “Promise.”

“Out!” Lucretia shrieked.

Tom laughed and easily side stepped a light blue curse and drug a heavily laughing Orion along with him.

|<strike>}(){</strike>|

Eden stared up at the night sky wrapped in Tom’s arms. “Did you have a good day?” he asked in the silence.

She hummed and curled further into his side. “Yeah,” she sighed happily. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she propped herself up onto her elbow and leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. He smiled against her before his hand curled into her long hair and held her against him while he deepened the slow and languid kiss until she thought he was idly stroking her soul with his _extremely_ talented tongue.

He nipped her lips and tongue a few times before he pulled away with her bottom lip caught between both of his. He had switched their positions while they were kissing, so she now lay on the grass beneath him. His knees were on either side of her hips, and his forearms were on either sides of her head, and the fingers of one hand gently scraped against her scalp.

She tangled her fingers into his hair and pulled, and he groaned softly before he lowered himself and kissed her again, long and slow, deep and intense, loving and searching. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she arched towards him, and one arm curled around her waist and pulled her closer.

While the new way Tom kissed her was nice—and at times the most amazing thing she could have ever asked for—she missed their old kisses. The ones that would hurt if they kissed for too long. The kisses that would have her nearly passing out from lack of air. The ones where if he was too rough, she could taste her blood. The ones where she’d get her unholy revenge, and the sweet kisses would turn sour with their blood. The kisses where that didn’t bother either of them, and they’d do it over and over until their lips and tongues couldn’t handle the abuse anymore, and they’d be reduced to cuddling to show their love to one another.

She arched further into him and tightened her grasp on his hair, and he growled low in his chest before he shifted so the entirety of his body pressed against hers. He moved his arm from around her waist and pinned her to the ground and tangled the fingers of his now free hand in her hair and pulled while he pressed her further into the ground.

She moaned softly into his mouth, and the kiss became more frantic as they tried to suck each other’s souls out through their mouths and become—

Tom ripped himself away from her suddenly before he stood and took a few steps back, his hands buried deep into his hair. She clumsily pushed herself to her elbows while he paced. “Tom?” she breathily rasped.

He glanced at her and his body slumped before a growl escaped his clenched lips. “Don’t—Eden—” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair again as he turned away from her once more.

“IS everything okay?” she asked softly. Her heart was breaking. “Did I do something wrong?”

He turned around faster than lightning before he sat next to her and pulled her into his arms and on his lap.

Oh.

Right.

That…that made much more sense now.

“You did nothing wrong, Eden,” he choked out through a thick voice. He kissed the side of her neck and groaned softly—so softly she barely heard him. “Arcturus promised to have my head on a stake if I touched you before we were married. I thought that keeping my distance…in a sense…would help, but…it’s just—”

She climbed off of his lap and sat next to him. Tom breathed out a frustrated sigh before he buried his head in her neck and breathed deeply. “It’s just what, Tom? What aren’t you telling me?”

“You noticed?”

She glared at him. “Of course, I noticed.” She took his hand into hers. “You’re my best friend, Tom. I tend to notice when something’s wrong.”

He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer—somehow. “What I’m about to tell you has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you, so don’t say what I’m about to tell you is your fault, alright?”

She weakly nodded and ran her fingers through his hair to help him relax and was pleased when it worked. “Alright. What’s wrong?”

He breathed deeply for a moment before he spoke. “I can’t get a job.”

“What? But—I thought you had a job lined up at the Ministry—” she broke off, unable to get her mind to wrap around what he just told her.

“So did I. Apparently, in early May, all of the positions that I had applied to got filled. Somehow, at about the same time, my name got Blacklisted, so I can’t get _any_ job at the Ministry. Not even as a janitor.”

“What? Who would do such a thing?” she demanded in a soft, broken voice.

Tom shrugged, defeated. It broke her heart to see him like this. “I don’t know. Abraxas, Androtheny, Walpurga, and Noah are all looking into it, but they keep hitting dead ends.”

“Why Noah? He has no ties with the Ministry.”

“That’s _exactly_ why I asked him to look into it. He’s gotten the furthest out of everyone looking into it because of his ties with St. Mungo’s.”

She pulled away and looked into his eyes and Tom smiled at whatever he saw in hers. “What?” she asked softly.

“Nothing. It’s just…I’m shocked that you can still love me, even when I can’t get a job to be able to support you.”

She shook her head and stroked his cheek. “I love you, Tom Marvolo Riddle. _Nothing_ will _ever_ make me stop loving you.”

Sadness filled his eyes as they flashed with what looked like a deep-seated fear. “Even if I become a homicidal, psychopathic megalomaniac?” he asked sadly, as if he already knew the answer.

“I’m not going to let that happen, but yes. Even if you _did_ become the Lord Voldemort that I knew in my time, I would still love you and trust you with my life.”

His mouth flapped for a moment. “You—I don—you’re perfect, Eden. Absolutely, completely, wonderfully perfect.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He groaned before he pulled away. “Bad idea.”

“I can go if you’d like—”

His arms clamped around her like vices. “Don’t you dare,” he growled.

She giggled and laid back on the grass to stare at the stars once more. He joined her after a moment of staring and slipped one arm under her neck and pulled her, so she was flush against his side. “What about Diagon Alley?” she asked after a while.

“What about it?” He nosed at her temple before he pressed a soft kiss against her cheek.

“Have you been able to get a job there?”

He groaned and nuzzled her head with his nose. “No. They all say I’m overqualified.”

She frowned. “That’s not fair.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek again. “You’re right. It’s not.”

“How are you paying for your apartment?” she asked after a moment.

“The bag of galleons you gave me to pay for the pensieve. There was some left over.”

The two fell into silence, and it was just as a shooting star that streaked across the sky—that she didn’t notice—when she spoke. “Hey, Tom?”

“Yes, beloved?”

Her heart thundered in her chest at the nickname. _Focus, Eden!_ “Remember when I told you Narcissa and Lucius gave me a monthly allowance?”

Tom immediately started to shake his head. “No, Eden. I’m not taking your money.”

She sighed and turned to face him. “It’ll be your money too when we marry, Tom. I don’t see why it makes any difference giving it to you now than you receiving it in a couple of years upon us signing a few parchments. Especially when you need it now, and I don’t even use it.”

He groaned. “A man is to provide for his family—”

She slapped his chest. “And a wife is to look after her husband so he _can_ provide for the family. I just want to help you, Tom! I’m not telling you to take the money and never get a job. I’m telling you to _take it_ and use what you _must_ until you _can_ get a job. Tom, I don’t _care_ if you provide for us, or if it’s money that’s been gifted to me that provides for us. As long as you’re there for me and our children, I don’t care where the money comes from.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered as he stroked her cheek.

“No, you don’t.”

He laughed deeply and shifted so his head rested on his palm as he faced her. “I love you, Eden.”

“Say my name.”

He lifted a brow and ran a finger gently over her cheek. “Are you sure? I thought you were still in pain.”

She shrugged and played with one of his shirt buttons. “It’s not too bad today. In fact, I’ve barely noticed it.”

He sighed in relief. “That’s good.” He nodded. “That’s good.” He kissed her forehead and sighed contentedly before he pulled away.

“I love you, Tom,” she whispered.

“I love you, too, Noah.” Fire flushed in her veins, and he stroked her cheek. “I love you, Noah.” Never before had her given name sounded so…pure. “I love you, Noah—” He kissed her. “—Eden—” He kissed her again. “—Potter.” He stroked her cheek as wicked fire lit in his eyes. “I love you, Noah Eden _Riddle_.”

Her face flushed and Sebastian took another world tour in her stomach.

“I love—”

“_Excuse_ you,” a harsh voice interrupted. “It’s just _Eden_ Black. _Eden_ Riddle—” Sebastian was _really_ trying to move to Egypt, or maybe the catacombs of France. “—None of this _Noah_ talk. It’s too confusing,” Orion complained as he forced his way between her and Tom.

“What are you doing here, Starbright?”

“Mum and dad want you two back at the Manor. They want to make sure Tom hasn’t ruined your innocence.”

It was silent.

The three teens erupted into loud laughter. Eden had told and understood more inappropriate jokes than most of the Knights combined—the only two of the group ever beating her being Julian and Tom (the one who had _explained_ most of the jokes she had heard in her time).

The three stumbled their way back to the Manor, and when it was time for Tom to go, she pulled him into her room with Orion and Arcturus following behind them at a not so respectable distance—she swore she could feel Arcturus breath running down her neck. She immediately went to her Trunk and opened it to her money compartment and summoned one of the many bags that littered the space and opened it.

She froze when she saw what was in there.

_Eden,_

_ If you ever find yourself needing any type of assistance, you will _always_ find it with us._

_ Take care of yourself, my dear._

_ Lucius Malfoy._

“Eden?” Tom asked worriedly after a moment of her just silently staring at the small piece of parchment.

She didn’t open her Trunk often because of all of the memories it would bring, and sometimes, after opening it, she’d cry until she thought she’d die—she’d always wake up the next morning with Tom’s arms wrapped tightly around her.

She wiped her face. “I’m fine. Truly.” She bit her lips. “I had forgotten about this,” she whispered as she held it almost reverently in her hands. “About the note, at least.”

Tom walked over to her and red the note over her shoulder while he wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’s okay to cry,” he whispered, just like he always did whenever he was there when she opened her Trunk.

“I know. But, I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of feeling guilty for leaving them without saying goodbye.” Lucretia and Melania joined Arcturus and Orion in the doorway. “I’m tired of mourning what I lost. This is my new life, and I want to live it, and be _happy_. I want to be able to make decisions for myself without worrying about the consequences. I just want to be free.”

Red, blue, and purple mists filled the air in an indecipherable blob. Tom tensed behind her.

The Aether formed the shape of a tall thin man. "Do not worry, my son, you have already Paid the Price."

"Price? What Price? What is he talking about, Tom?"

The Aether laughed. It was warm and brittle. "I'm sure he will tell you later. That is not the reason I have come."

Eden opened her mouth to reign Hell upon Tom and the Aether until the two told her what Price Tom had apparently Paid, but Tom speaking stopped her.

"Why are you here?" Tom demanded in a weak tone. He held her tighter. "_Please_, I can't lose her. I need her. Don't take her from me."

"I am not here to take her, Tom. The Council, my wife, and I have come to a decision. We have all seen what will happen to the world should you be without Eden, and the many different outcomes that come of it, few good, many bad. We have decided to let Eden stay here with you, even though the Price you had to Pay for saving her Life after the Lightning Wyvern almost killed her was losing her." Eden choked out a sob before she turned and buried her face in Tom's chest. "I do not mean to sadden you, my daughter. It is just how the universe works."

"Why tell us now? Why wait so long?"

"It took us a sennight to come to a conclusive decision, but we decided that the final choice needed to be with Eden. She had to fully accept her place in this new life, to want to stay for more than just you, my son. She needed to not only be ready to move on from what she lost she needed to be ready and able to embrace what was in front of her."

"So, she's staying? For good?"

"Yes. As of this moment, Noah Eden Potter is dead, and will never be born again. Time has Ended and Begun anew in this moment. Fate, Magic, and Aether have spoken, so mote it be." Something in the air shifted at the Aether’s words.

"What about the pain? Will that fade?" she asked almost desperately.

"Yes. It will begin to fade now that your heart, mind, magic, and soul are not warring with one another."

Her eyes watered. "Thank you."

He bowed before he moved towards them. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then he clasped Tom's shoulder. "Also, Eden, you'll find a little birthday present from me in your Trunk."

"Thank you, Father Aether."

* * *

** _ 07/31/95 _ **

_I know you'll never read this, because you're no longer here, but, in my heart, mind, and soul, I believe you're still alive somewhere, watching over me._

_It's strange, really. One moment you were there, and then the next you were gone. I'll never forget the way your eyes looked, staring up into nothing, yet looking so peaceful, as if you had finally been released from a great burden...._

_But anyway, happy birthday, Eden. I hope it's a great one, wherever you are._

** _ 12/25/95 _ **

_Merry Christmas!_

_I hope you're having a wonderful time wherever you are._

_I'm sitting here in the Slytherin Common Room staring into the flames, and I can't help but think of you. It's strange really. Something that once brought me comfort and joy, now brings me sorrow. I was once Claimed by you, and then I was Claimed by Ambrosia._

_As I stare into the flames, I can't help but remember your funeral. I can't help but remember the heat of the flames against my skin._

_There was a man there. He looked like he was about to throw himself into the flames with you. His face was stained with tears, and Healer Smith and Lucius had to hold him back on numerous occasions._

_Were you two close? Was that the Tom Ambrosia spoke of?_

_Remembering that, I almost wish that I had died from the Lash-Back. I tried so hard to save you, and I failed._

_I'm so sorry, Eden._

** _ 07/31/96 _ **

_Again, I know you'll never read this, but, it's become a habit to write to you. I write a letter almost every day, but I only put some in the book. The rest I put in a binder to keep safe. It's like a journal, I guess._

_Anyway, today...I hate to be the one to tell you this, but today Leif died. He killed himself. The Twin Bond had broken when you died, at your funeral, to be exact, and while it wasn't as extreme as it being a Snapped Bond, it was still bad. _

_He had changed, after you died._

_In his note, he said he couldn't stand the missing hole in his heart and Core. I tried to remove it, but I wasn't too sure what I was doing, and Noah couldn't because he's a Dark Core, and, well…either he’s a bad teacher or I was too emotionally invested to be able to remove it from him. Lily and James refused to get it removed by someone distanced from the whole thing. They never said why, and in the end, their son died for it._

_Look at this, you can't even read the letter, I'm crying so much._

_I miss you, Eden_

** _ 10/31/97 _ **

_Antony's been writing to me lately. It's nice, I suppose. I get happy whenever he does._

_Does that mean I have a crush on him? I've never had a crush. I wish you could be here to help. The other girls aren't too helpful. They're all in arranged marriages, so they don't really understand._

_At least, that's what they say._

_…_

** _ 06/30/98 _ **

_I graduated today. I was Head Girl, and Draco was Head Boy._

_…_

_I discovered that I no longer mourn you the way I used to. I miss you, we all do, but we have all accepted that you're gone now. You're with the Olde gods in Elysium waiting for us. You're happy, I hope._

_…_

_Antony asked me on a date. I think I'm going to say yes._

** _ 04/09/99 _ **

_Today is Draco and Astoria's wedding. Antony and I are going together._

_…_

_I wonder, could you marry someone wherever you are?_

_…_

_Also, I got accepted into Healing School—the same one that Lord Smith got accepted into! I'm going to be the best healer the world has ever seen. Just wait, one day I'll cure Mystic Madness, or Dragon Pox._

** _ 07/31/99 _ **

_Antony asked me to marry him._

_I said yes._

_…_

** _ 10/04/99 _ **

_Today’s my wedding day._

_I wish you were here. Ambrosia's my Matron of Honor, but I wish it was you, Eden._

_…_

** _ 09/12/08 _ **

_I gave birth to my fourth child today._

_Her name is Eden Ambrosia Selwyn._

_I think this might be the last letter I write to you and put in the book. I'll still write, but I hope that what I have already written will make its way to wherever you are. If what I suspect is true, and you are strong enough to utilize the Aether, I'd rather not delay it._

_Also, the book is full. Doubling up could work, but I don't want to break the spine._

_The picture is my son, Antony Draco, holding Eden. The two boys behind him are William Leif and Frederick Near. They're twins if you recall._

_I love you, and I always will._

_I hope this finds you._

_Hermione Jean Selwyn_

* * *

** _Saturday, August 4, 1945_ **

** _ Black Manor_ **

Arcturus didn't make Tom leave that night, or the next three nights.

It took his beloved four days to get through every letter that had been slipped into the pages of _Healing Magic, Magick, and Magik_. There were some that took her minutes to read, with little to no tears—and even laughter at some—and then there were the letters that took her hours to read because she couldn't see through her tears to be able to read them.

It was often that first night after she'd read them, he'd read them. She enjoyed explaining the stories behind some quips, and they'd both be terribly confused at others.

After that first night, the Blacks got interested in what the Aether had given Eden to make her so emotional, so they started reading them. Orion _then_ made the mistake of mentioning it to Julian, who, as the gossip of the Knights of Walpurgis, told the rest of them, and then it was a party—a very unfortunate party.

Many tears were shed, and it was freeing to be able to see the guilt that ate Eden free itself with each letter. It was freeing to be able to know what her time was like, and to know that she _did_ have genuine friends who cared about her, not for her magic or her status, but because of who she was.

"Hey, look. There's another picture."

Abraxas peeled it off of the back cover before he cast a spell on it and handed it to Eden. The picture was large and had eleven students in it and six adults. Ten of the students wore the uniform and one, his Eden, wore something different.

She wore a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, bright green yoga pants, and wore boots that went to her midthigh made of dragon hide. Her locket rested proudly on her chest as she smiled brightly at the camera.

The students goofed around for a minute before the adults silenced them and they all faced forward and stood still. Which didn't last long as the boy on the end said something.

"This was taken with a camera different to the one I showed you," Eden eventually choked out. "The one I showed you taps into someone's magic to be able to better represent them. This camera model, however, takes a picture of five seconds before and after the flash.”

"Who are they?" he asked from where he sat behind her with his hands on her stomach.

She pointed to the student on the left. "That's Septimus Pride, Evanius Rosier, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, me, Ambrosia Smith, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode." He glanced at his Knights and understood their awed expressions.

She was close with all of their progeny.

Eden pointed to the first adult. "This is Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, Lucius Malfoy, _tata_—" she choked for a minute before she continued, "—_tata_, Sirius Black, Mariea Black nee McKay, and Remus Lupin." She swallowed before she stroked the waterproofed picture. "This is my family."

"Hello," Tom whispered to the picture, "it's an honor to finally meet you."

He quickly realized that he probably shouldn't have done that when she turned in his arms after dropping the picture and wrapped her own around his neck before she began to sob into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he ran his hand up and down her back.

She shook her head. "Don't be. I'm so happy that you did that."

"Then why are you crying?" She shrugged before continuing on. He looked to Lucretia and Melania. "Why is she crying?"

"It could be hormones," Lucretia stated simply.

"Sometimes people cry when their emotions get the better of them. Don't worry, Tom, she's fine."

A shadow shifted in the corner, and a dog-sized Abyss walked in. "**I heard my Human crying. Which of these mongrels do I have to maim**?"

"None of them, Abyss. I'm fine. How was torturing the souls of the damned?"

He huffed before he sat down next to them. He began to sniff Eden, and his witch, bless her heart, gave him magic, even though she was still recovering from her permanent move to the 1940’s. The Hellhound purred before he pulled away—a first—and licked her hand.

"**Hunting was fine, thank you**."

His witch giggled before she snuggled into him. "I'm glad it went well."

"**You are scaring your humans with the misunderstanding that my hunting of mortal prey is torturing souls**," Abyss stated.

"**That's the point**," she hissed.

Tom nearly dumped Eden on the floor he laughed so hard.

Abyss had rolled his eyes.

* * *

** _Monday, August 13, 1945_ **

** _ Black Manor_ **

"Can you explain to me why we waited until 2 weeks before school started to do our shopping?"

Eden, Orion, and Arcturus were preparing to leave for Diagon Alley. Well, Orion and Arcturus were. She was waiting anxiously for Tom after having finished getting ready fifteen minutes before.

He hadn't been around as much lately, and she was worried. She knew he probably had a job, but still.

She missed him.

"To avoid the rush," Arcturus answered simply as he buttoned his travel cloak. He grabbed the crushed green velvet cloak from Narcissa that she had pulled out of her Trunk a week ago and clasped it around her shoulders.

"I'm not a baby," she whined.

He hugged her and held her close. "I know you're new to the family, but you've still become my baby girl."

She smiled as warmth filled her. She returned the hug, and Orion leaned on top of her. "I love having a little sister," he cooed, just like he did every morning and every night since she had moved in.

"You're crushing me," she complained after a minute. Her adoptive father and brother seemed to have communicated silently because as one they tightened their hold on her. "I'm serious!" she whined. "I can't breathe!" The floo activated. "Tom! Help me! I can't breathe!"

"Orion. Arcturus."

She loved Tom's Dark Lord voice. She wrapped her arms around him and sunk into his warmth. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and breathed deeply. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, my beloved."

"Well, now that we're all here, let's go."

** _Diagon Alley_ **

Eden groaned when she and Tom appeared in the apparation point. "You weren't kidding when you said travel made you sick," Orion commented from next to them while Tom ran his hand up and down her back as he pushed his magic into her and forced the nausea to recede rapidly.

She muttered quite a few unlady-like words—which had Orion doubled over in laughter—to what she thought about his comment.

"You two go get your robes, and Tom and I will go get your books." Arcturus and Tom had learned the very _hard_ way that they shouldn’t take her to the book store unless they wanted to be there for five hours and leave about fifteen to fifty galleons lighter, and about five hundred books heavier.

(the Malfoy’s had spoiled her rotten)

Eden tensed, and Tom pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're ready for this, love. I believe in you."

"I don't want to leave you," she mumbled. Even though she had accepted her new life, she was still terrified that something would happen to Tom, and he'd leave her. She didn't know what she'd do with herself if that was the case.

"I know, my sweet," he cooed, "but if you're going to survive Hogwarts this year, you'll need to be away from me for longer periods of time as practice."

She tightened her hold on him and groaned. "I don't like it when you're right."

"I'm always right."

She smiled softly as a familiar argument settled between them. "Does that mean I'm always left?"

He chuckled before he pulled away and kissed her softly. "Yes, you will always be by my side. Now go on, before Orion eviscerates me."

The two students walked away, and when she was sure that Tom and Arcturus were out of hearing range she leaned over and asked Orion, "You wouldn't _really_ eviscerate him, would you?"

Orion laughed before he draped his arm across her shoulders and easily lead her through the early morning hustle and bustle. "Hell no," he snorted, "but, I can't let him know that. I need to keep you pure somehow."

Eden laughed loudly and turned to glance over her shoulder and saw that Tom and Arcturus were watching her lovingly—two different kinds of love, but both made her warm inside.

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"Lord Black, would you mind if I stole your daughter for the rest of the day? I think it would be beneficial to her mental stability."

Arcturus inclined his head. "You may. I want her back by supper, which you are invited to attend as well, Tom."

Tom bowed. "I thank you, my Lord."

Eden watched the exchange with fascination. No matter how many times she had seen Pureblood Culture, it still shocked her that almost nothing about it will change in the next fifty years.

Tom curled her arm through his, and as customary, she kissed Arcturus on the cheek, and then Orion. "See you later, sis."

"See you later."

Tom pulled her away and down many side alleys until it was just the two of them between two crumbling brick buildings devoid of human life. He pressed her gently against the wall and kissed her softly.

"I missed you today," he murmured.

Tom and Arcturus had gotten the books faster than it had taken Orion and Eden to get their robes, since she needed a full set of school robes instead of just a couple replacements, and somehow, her father and intended came up with the brilliant plan of divide and conquer.

"I missed you, too." She bit her cheek to keep the tears at bay.

They had finished in more than half the time it would have usually taken, but she had only seen Tom for about a total of twenty minutes that day outside of the lunch they had just had with her father and brother.

She didn’t know how she was going to be able to handle Hogwarts without Tom.

He nuzzled her nose with his, and the two were silent for some time while they just recovered from the day of being separated from one another.

"Can I ask a question?" he asked sometime later.

"Always."

"What job did I have before?"

She frowned and pulled away so she could easily look at him. "I'm not too sure. You disappeared off of the face of the planet after you graduated Hogwarts. I think you worked at Borgin and Burkes for a while. The man who sold me my bag said a shop boy by the name of Tom Riddle found it and that he had been almost as pleased when he found it then when he found the Locket of Slytherin..." she trailed off as a thought came to her.

"Eden?"

"Get a blood test done with the goblins."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Get a blood test. You're the last living Heir of Slytherin. If you take a blood test, and get the Slytherin Lordship, there's no _way_ you couldn't be on the Wizengamot. You wouldn't need to get a job, but you could if you still wanted to." He stared at her with wide eyes. "Don't you see, Tom? If you claim the Lordship—_mmph_!"

Her words were cut off as his lips pressed harshly against hers. She melted into the kiss and dug her fingers into his hair as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, and he let out an animalistic growl before he pulled away and bit at her bottom lip harshly. She cried out, but that cry turned to a moan when he pulled it into his mouth and sucked and ran his tongue over it.

He shoved his tongue into her mouth as he sealed his lips over hers and the taste of her blood on her tongue only made the kiss more fervid. She pulled harshly on his hair, and he groaned low into her soul and bit her lip again. He didn't pause to soothe the ache like the last time, and her mouth flooded with her blood.

He bit her again—that time it was her tongue—and she used what little space she had between the brick wall and his face to pull away and bite his own lip. He groaned and pressed his forehead against hers and his breath brushed rhythmically against her face as he fought to catch his breath. She pulled his lip between her teeth again and nipped at and nibbled at it until she finally broke skin.

He pressed his lips to her, and the kiss was slow, sensual, intense, and filled with so much love she thought she was going to burst. The taste of their blood mingling didn't ruin the kiss and only seemed to make it more visceral.

After some time, he pulled away from her and began to mouth at her jaw and to her right ear where he sucked a light hickey into existence.

"I sometimes forget that you're not going to be leaving any minute," he murmured. "I forget that I don't have to rush, and that I can take my time now. I can woo you properly now." He kissed the side of her neck again, and she sighed softly. "I can love you like you deserve to be loved now."

She stroked her fingers through his hair, and he pressed her tighter against the wall. "I miss those kisses," she whispered. "I miss them so much it hurts, sometimes. I love the slow and loving kisses, and the gentle touches. I also love the quick, frantic, and sometimes bloody kisses. I love the punishing kisses where I can't breathe, and all I can think about is you. I love the bruises on my hips, or my back from how you held me. I love you, just as you are. As long as you don't hurt me on purpose—" He tensed at the reminder, like he always did "—then I will love however you decide to love me, Tom."

He pulled away and kissed her lips softly. He ended the kiss with her bottom lip between his, and he once more soothed the ache from his bites. "I love you, Eden."

She smiled and kissed him softly. "I love you, too, Tom."

That night at dinner, it wasn’t a meal full of stolen glances between her and Tom, it was a meal full of stolen glances between the three Lordship Ring’s on Tom’s hand, and everyone who hadn’t been at the blood test.

* * *

** _Saturday, September 1, 1945_ **

** _ King's Cross Station—Platform 9¾_ **

"Are you sure you have everything you need?"

Eden sighed and fondly rolled her eyes at Melania—which she regretted as soon as she did it due to the semi-permanent glamour potion that made her eyes itch something fierce. "Yes, I'm sure, mother. I'll be fine." That was yet to be seen, but she'd be _damned_ if she let them see how scared she was to be leaving Tom and them.

"I just worry," she said as she stroked Eden's hair. They were both aware of those watching them. "It's your first time away from the Manor for an extended amount of time after all."

"Not true! I visited Uncle Pollux for three days last week!"

It was fun and awful at the same time. He hadn't let her stay alone with her thoughts for too long—read: any time at all—and they spent the time sparring mostly (he was a spunky old geezer—sorry, middle-aged man).

"Yes, yes, so you keep reminding me," she sighed fondly. She stroked Eden’s cheek. "Go, say goodbye to your Tom, dear."

"Thanks, mum, love you!" Eden had been three steps away before her words truly processed. She turned around and hugged Melania tight. She didn't know what to say, especially when a tear landed on her neck. "I'm going to miss you."

"Oh, my sweet angel. I'm going to miss you, too." Melania kissed her hair. "I love you."

Eden hesitated for only a moment as warmth filled her. "I love you, too." She quickly released Melania and went to Arcturus. "I love you, too."

The man abandoned all decorum and wrapped her in his arms. "My baby girl," he whispered, "I love you. Don't forget your potion. Every Sunday, right after you wake up."

He released her after she agreed, and she easily slipped through the crowd to a dark corner where Tom and his Knights—only the ones who knew about her—lounged. Along with the Knights still in school were Noah and Abraxas, and they all were laughing at a story that Orion was telling them.

"I mean it! She had no clue how to get dressed in a formal ball gown!"

"No, I don't believe it," Abraxas denied immediately. "She was beautiful that night." The rest of the Knights agreed while Tom just leaned against the pillar with a knowing smile on his face.

He had been waiting outside the room while Melania, Lucretia, and Walpurga tried to get her dressed. Which _really_ meant he had been waiting outside the room while she had been cussing and cursing while Melania, Lucretia, and Walpurga tried to get her dressed before they resulted to petrifying her and dressing her like a doll.

She stopped behind Orion and crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell them Tom! You were there outside waiting with me!"

He raised his hands. "Nope. I'm not saying anything that will get the girl I love mad at me."

"She's not here yet! She was saying goodbye to mother and father a few minutes ago."

Eden cleared her throat, and all laughter stopped as Orion tensed—no one had seen her for some reason (she suspected Tom had something to do with it). He turned around with a guilty grin on his face. "Eden! Light of my life, my baby sister—eep—_Iloveyoupleasedon'tkillme_!" he shrieked when he began to hang from his ankles.

She walked around his struggling form and hugged Tom. "You're all dismissed," he said softly as he held her impossibly closer to him. "Eden, release your brother so we may have a proper goodbye." She sighed before she did as commanded.

Once they were alone, Tom easily erected a Privacy Ward. "I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered. "I'm not going to see you every time I dream, and I don't want that to happen."

A rogue tear streaked down her face, and he quickly wiped it away. The Lordship Rings on his right hand were cold against her heated cheek before the Family Magicks welcomed her with a warm hug.

"I'm going to miss you, too, my love," he murmured against her lips. He pressed a light kiss to them. "But you'll be able to write me whenever, and we'll see each other at least once a month on Hogsmeade weekends."

"Uncle Pollux's house was difficult without you, Tom, and he kept me so busy I would be asleep before my head even hit the pillow. I'm so used to seeing you every day for at least a couple hours—" Another choked sob left her throat.

He kissed her, soft and slow, and held her as if she were the most precious of possessions. "I know. It's going to be hard for me, too."

She stilled. She hadn't even been thinking about how her going back to school would affect him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He tucked her head into the crook of his neck—well, he tried to (he was in the middle of another growth spurt, the damn bastard). She wrapped her magic around her feet and lifted herself to make it easier on the both of them, and he wouldn't have to crouch to accommodate her stature.

"Hey, don't be like that, sweetheart. You've been selfless for so long, it's okay to be a little self-absorbed right now, especially with everything that has happened recently. I still love you."

"I still love you," she murmured against his skin.

He shuttered and pressed his lips against hers in another slow, intense kiss that stole her breath away in a completely different way than the Punishment Kisses. When he pulled away, it took all of her willpower to not beg him to let her stay with him.

Apparently, she didn't have to speak.

"Eden, I can't—" He groaned before he lifted her into his arms and kissed her harshly for a few seconds before he ripped himself away. "I love you," he insisted as his hands cupped her face.

She held onto them, and he wiped away her tears as they fell. "I love you, too."

He kissed her forehead. "I have to let you go so I don't keep you with me."

She nodded and pulled away from him. The Privacy Ward was dropped, and Orion was by her side in seconds. He, Tom, and the rest of the Knights escorted her to the train.

She stepped up onto the train and was stopped by a hand on her wrist. Tom kissed the back of her hand. "Mail me the first Hogsmeade weekend date. I'll be there." He kissed the palm of her hand as she nodded. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, and he pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

He released her, and Orion and Julian drug her onto the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. I'd love feedback. Good. Bad. I was crying while I was writing the letters, first time EVER, so I'd like to know if I was the only one crying. 
> 
> Hope this also answered some questions. Someone commented that they wished there was more in Eden's present, and I nearly commented saying 'you got it' because I had already written the letters hehehe...
> 
> Anyways. I'm not responding to comments, not because I don't read them or because I don't like them, but because I have no time. I read every single one of your comments, and I love them all. 
> 
> Don't know when the next update will be, but hopefully soon.


	38. 37 The End: Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I've been bed ridden with COVID-19 for the last two weeks. Almost everyone in my family got it--either one member is asymptomatic or just a lucky little snot and somehow managed to miss getting it--and it put us all on our butts.
> 
> It messed with my head a lot, so, I have no clue when I'll be able to work on my larger stories again, as every time I try and work on them I get sent into very large extisential crises--mainly the ones that involve stupendous amounts of world building--and they're sending me back in my recovery timeline.
> 
> Anyway, no idea if this makes any sense. I wrote a majority of it before I got sick, but I noticed things and tried to fix them while I was sick, and I think I made it worse, but I don't really have the mental capacity at the moment to try and make them make sense. If you have questions, at some point in the future I might be able to explain if I can make it make sense to me.

** _Saturday, September 1, 1945_ **

** _ Hogwarts_ **

The ride to school hadn't been as bad as she thought it was going to be—she assumed it had something to do with the delicate silver bracelet Tom had given her the night before that was in the shape of the lesser known Slytherin Crest, an ouroboros. The Knights had sat with her, and they amused each other with stories from their pasts. It was interesting getting to know the other students Tom had deemed worthy of his time and energy, and they were all respectful—even the older girls who were obviously in love with Tom, but still treated her like a little sister (even _after_ they learned of their relationship).

When they arrived at Hogwarts, she was led to the carriages between Androtheny and Marcus—much to Orion and Julian’s dismay—and like every time she had seen them, she pretended the Thestrals didn’t exist. Once at the actual castle, Headmaster Dippet pulled her aside and gushed about how good it was to meet her.

It had taken everything she had ever been and ever would be to not cower when the man had led her to an antechamber behind the Head Table and explained to her what she would need to do when her name was called. While her fabricated background—and the increased stresses her family had been putting her under to prepare her for this moment—would have allowed her for a little cowering, or at least a shaky deep breath or two, Uncle Pollux had assured her that if she did such a thing—and he would know because Phineas and he were on good terms (whoever _that_ was)—she’d be training with him the entire Yule break _without _Tom.

She was soon left alone, but she remained as strong as she could be on her own—at least, as alone as one could be in a castle infested with ghosts, portraits, children, and adults of the worst kind. There was a hum of approval behind her. She whipped around and in a portrait on the opposite side of the room was her godfather.

“Sirius?” she whispered to herself. The man’s head cocked to the side in confusion before he smiled softly at her.

“Phineas Nigellas Black, at your service, granddaughter Eden.”

“Uh . . . hi, sir.”

“Call me pawpaw.”

"Students, if I may have your attention!" The hall on the other side of the wall fell quiet almost instantly.

“Are you _serious_?”

The man in the portrait seemed to think for a moment. “Yes, I believe I am.”

"I'd like to introduce a new student with us this year. She will be starting in her fifth year. Miss Eden Black, please join us."

She looked between the door and Phineas. “Go,” he whispered, “do the Black name proud, granddaughter.”

She nodded and took a deep breath and placed her Slytherin Mask before she straightened her spine and held her shoulders back. She lifted her head, and she entered the large hall that had never quite done it for her like it had others. Whispers erupted in the hall when she entered, the picture perfect Slytherin—or Black, in this case.

Her eyes flickered over to Orion, and he and Julian gave her two thumbs up, and together they pushed the person next to them down—Androtheny—and created a space between the two of them. Her lips twitched before she sat on the stool.

The hat was placed on her head, and similar to the last time, she was a Hatstall.

_My, my. Not only do I have another Natural Occlumens, I have a time traveler._

_Is that why it takes so long to Sort me?_

_Oh yes. It takes five minutes for the Runes and Magik woven in me to activate for me to get through to your mind. Now then, let's get started, shall we?_

_Slytherin._

_Oh ho! Fond of your old House, are we?_

_Yes. Please, it's my first home. Don't take it from me._

_Very well. It's always nice when the student agrees with me._

"SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

_ **Sunday, September 2, 1945** _

** _ Tom Riddle's Apartment_ **

An annoying tap on the window pulled Tom out of his paperwork for the Wizengamot—or was it Gringotts? (he could barely keep his eyes open).

A glance at the clock showed it was three in the morning.

He rubbed the crick in his neck and stood and moved to the window. A silvery owl stood on the windowsill, and he smiled softly at Artemius. His unofficial official—the moment she accepted the bracelet soaked in his magic it was almost guaranteed (at least those around her would recognize the claim that it was)—fiancée’s owl flew into the room and landed on a perch that his own owl, Hades, would sit.

(he hated the beast's name, but had Eden named the beast when she was twelve, and she had kept calling him Hades until he had picked the unfortunate habit up)

He grabbed the creamy white envelope from Artemius and moved to the chair by the fire to read it. He broke the Black Seal on the back—one day it would be the Slytherin Seal (_his_ seal) he'd be breaking on her letters to him—and pulled out the parchment.

_09/01/1945  
_ _ My Dearest, Tom,_

_ The first Hogsmeade weekend is October 13. If you're not there, I'm forcing Orion to take me to you, and I'm going to break your arm.   
_ _ I miss you already.  
_ _ It's strange. The social dynamics in Slytherin haven't changed a bit since my time. Won't change? I'm not too sure how to phrase things right now. Anyway, while the social hierarchy hasn't changed, the dorm situation has.  
_ _ In my time, 5th years and up are given their own dorm, and 4th years and below only have four to a dorm.  
_ _ Here, I have 29 roommates. I was able to get out of socializing by pretending I was so overwhelmed that I needed to cool off and was able to escape into my Trunk, but I'm not too sure how long that excuse will last.  
_ _ Everyone keeps asking about my bracelet you gave me. Some people have asked if it's a courting gift. Orion said it was. What does it mean Tom? Is it a courting gift? I thought it was just to be able to help me on the train since I wasn't sick at all—_

Pleasure filled Tom to know that the bracelet had such a large impact on her own magic. Granted, he knew that his magic had a certain effect on hers, just as hers had a certain effect on his own.

_—but did it have another meaning to it?   
_ _ I know in the mid to late 19th century, Pureblood wizards made their intentions known by giving the woman or man of their choosing a piece of jewelry, typically a bracelet, filled with their magic. It was often seen as something similar to an engagement ring, or sometimes, a claim for protection.  
_ _ I won't be mad if it's an engagement gift. I just want to know what it was meant to be so I can answer the questions better. In fact . . . I'll be very pleased if it is one . . ..  
_ _ Well . . . other than that, I got Sorted into Slytherin again. It was another Hatstall. The Hat explained that it's my Natural Occlumens thingy that makes it hard. The Hat has spells and stuff on it that make it be able to get through.  
_ _ How are you doing? How is finally having work? Now that I'm not 'due to leave soon' you can't use that excuse with me anymore to not talk about it. I mean, if it's super private stuff, then I understand not having details. I just miss being able to talk to you about anything and everything._

His heart broke when he saw the slightly smeared letters in a pattern that indicated she had been crying.

_ Is it strange? We haven't even been parted for a full day, and I already miss you so much I can't breathe.  
_ _ I love you, and I miss you.  
_ _ Promise me you'll never leave me._

_Love,   
_ _ Eden._

A fond smile curled his lips as he stroked the words on the page. He reread the letter a few more times before he moved to his desk and wrote a reply.

* * *

** _Saturday, October 13, 1945_ **

** _ Hogsmeade_ **

"Quit bouncing the table, you absolute menace."

Eden glared at Orion and kicked his shin under the table. "Ow—what the hell, Eden?" She just lifted her eyebrow, pulled her foot back, and he immediately raised his hands up in a placating manner. "Alright, alright, you bloody psychopath."

She relaxed her foot and went back to sipping her iced butterbeer while they waited for Tom to show up.

Julian plopped onto the chair next to her and looked between the two siblings. "Good morning, Julian. How are you?" she asked genially, completely bouncing from demon to angel without missing a beat.

He looked between them again. "Still not talking to him?"

"Talking to whom?"

"Your brother."

"Oh, you mean the _traitorous wretch_ sitting over there?"

His lips twitched. "Yes, that one."

"You are correct. I am no longer speaking to him."

"Why not?" Orion whined.

She kicked him again and infused some shocking hexes on the tip of her shoe. "Bloody _hell_, woman!" he shouted. The Three Broomsticks fell silent for a moment as they all stared at the three students before conversation slowly started back up again.

"Remind me why you're not speaking to him again?" Theodosius demanded as he sat next to a moping Orion. Androtheny and Marcus drug chairs from neighboring tables over and sat down as far away from Eden as they could get while still being at the same table.

She smiled grimly.

"He told mother _dearest_ and father _dearest_ some things that I would have rather them not known, along with my _darling_ Tom."

He lifted his brow. "I knew you were terrifying with a wand, but I didn't realize that you were terrifying with words either. I never thought of the word _dearest_ as being terrifying before today."

"Get used to it," Orion scoffed. “She turned ‘_you’re so kind_’ into the worst insult I’ve ever heard the other day.”

"What does he have to do for you to start speaking to him again?"

"It’s quite simple actually. It’s quite appalling that his monkey brain can’t understand it, in fact. All he needs to do is apologize."

"I'm not apologizing because I did nothing wrong!"

The door to the pub opened, and the early morning air brushed passed her. Squeals began, and the shouts of someone's name began to draw her from her thoughts of deciding how to kill her brother and make it look like an accident. She was yanked fully out of her thoughts when Tom’s magic wrapped tightly around her and paralyzed her.

A figure knelt next to her and pulled her face into their hands. Tom stared frantically into her eyes, and she couldn't help but notice the slight changes that had happened since she had last seen him. He was taller—bastard—his hair was longer, and his eyes were wide and filled with fear as his magic ran over her body in a full scan—doing what his hands could not while in public.

After he had his fill of scanning her face, he wrapped her in his arms, and almost pulled her out of her chair. "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, do you understand, Eden?" he growled low in her ear.

He heart sunk as her petulant anger vanished. "I wanted to tell you in person," she whispered, equally soft. "He went behind my back, and against my wishes and told you, mum, and dad. I was planning on telling you some things today."

_But_ _not all things_. It went unsaid, but it was heard by all in their little bubble.

He pulled away and stroked her face, sadness in his eyes. "Let's go somewhere a bit more private to discuss this."

She reluctantly nodded, and allowed him to lead her out of the pub. She kept her eyes down and away from the pack of Gryffindor girls who sat by the door and worshipped Tom with their eyes.

One of them coughed into their hand while she waved her wand with the other and sent a tripping hex at Eden’s feet. She stumbled and banged her hip on the edge of their table, and one of them knocked a glass of scalding butterbeer onto her hand as she straightened herself. The other girls giggled while Tom pulled her into his side and out the door while his magic frantically wrapped around her.

(it wasn’t until later that she found out about the curses placed on the girls that prevented any and all beauty charms from working on their bodies)

** _Hogsmeade Forest_ **

Eden stared wide eyed at the clearing. "What?" she stuttered.

Tom wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. She curled her hands over them and rested her chin on them. "I figured talking somewhere comfortable and private would be more agreeable to you than in some restaurant or cafe. You’d feel safer."

Unwanted tears fell down her face and she turned and buried her face in Tom's chest and sobbed as she finally let go on the tight control she had on her emotions.

Tom's heart hurt as he held his witch against him as she cried. Her body-wracking sobs touched something deep in his soul—somewhere it was still connected and whole—and it cracked, just a bit. He held her tighter, and her cries grew deeper.

It had been two weeks since she had last replied to his letters—granted, they had been demanding answers to what Orion had written to him. It had been the same amount of time that she had stopped writing to Melania and Arcturus as well.

By his research, the only person who she hadn't stopped communicating with was Pollux, and that was the only reason he didn't storm the school to figure out why she was avoiding him. He wasn’t entirely sure how they still communicated—or even if it was mutual communication, because if what Eden said about Phineas was true, Pollux had a spy in the school.

He knew why she was avoiding him and her parents.

Apparently, the light of his life was being harassed by some Gryffindors, and even a couple of her roommates—which had gotten to the point that she's sleeping in her Trunk instead of the dorm room.

He had written to Theodosius—the King after him—and he had confirmed what Orion had told him.

He lifted Eden into his arms, and she easily adjusted to resting her head against his neck. He pressed a kiss to her skin and settled on the blanket in front of a tree and rested his back against it.

"So, where should we start?" he murmured. She shrugged. "How about we start with you not writing me for two weeks?"

"Sorry."

Apparently, that was all she was going to say on the matter.

He sighed and kissed her head again. "The only reason I didn't storm the castle to see if you were alive was Pollux, Orion, Theodosius, and Julian assuring me that you were fine."

She hiccoughed. "I was scared."

"Of what?"

"That you'd leave me if I told you what they were saying and doing."

He pulled away and forced her to look at him. "How many times do I have to remind you that you are _mine_?"

She shrugged with an adorable sniff, and his heart stuttered painfully in his chest. "Almost everyone leaves me whenever they find out something they don't like. Sure, most come back after a couple of days, but I didn't want to risk you not coming back at all."

"Have you always been this insecure?" She nodded, and his heart broke. "I love_ you_, Eden. I'm never going to leave you, no matter what those _sheep_ are saying. I know the truth, and that is that you're perfect in every way, shape, or form to me. You're beautiful, you're smart, you're kind, caring, and forgiving, and you are my moral compass."

"Oh, yes," she started, her voice stuffy, "we can't forget the moral compass. The world would burn without it."

He stroked her cheeks. "The world _would_ burn without you, Eden," he said seriously. "I mean it."

She shivered and nodded. "I know."

"Will you tell me what the girls are doing?"

She began to play with his fingers, and he let her. It was how she sorted her thoughts and calmed herself down—which was a huge boost to his ego every time she did it.

"They—they're—you’ve basically seen what they do to me. It’s not much worse than that. Just a bit of name calling,” she murmured. “I don’t know why, but I think it’s because I spend most of my time with Orion, Julian, Theodosius, Androtheny, and Marcus. I didn't really click with any of my dorm mates. I'm more comfortable sleeping in a Trunk that's password protected than I am sleeping in a room with 29 strangers—” She cut off with a choked breath, and he almost thought she was about to start crying again, but she just grabbed onto the front of his robes, grit her teeth, and stared stubbornly at a spot on his chest. He waited for her to continue, but she stayed silent.

That was . . . a lot to unpack at once. He shoved his rage to the back of his mind—he was already planning a meeting with his Knights so he could have an excuse to hear them scream under the guise of practice—and decided to start at the beginning.

“The names? What are they calling you?” he asked softly. He ran his lips across her hair and breathed deeply as she shifted in his hold and nuzzled his neck with the tip of her nose.

She hummed. “The only one that I’m willing to tell you is teacher’s pet.”

He sighed. And that was the whole reason why he was worried about Eden attending school where he couldn’t be there at a moments notice—not that he was anywhere capable of being there for her in such a way before.

At least when she was time-traveling, she was telling him exactly what was going on.

(granted, she wasn’t _actively_ trying to keep him out of Azkaban when she was time- traveling)

"The only teacher you actually like there is Merrythought, and she doesn't play favorites."

"Exactly."

"Who's forcing you to be a teacher's pet?"

"Dumbledore," she whispered. A shiver shook her body and he held her closer.

“Eden?”

"He . . . he tracks me down in the hallways and speaks to me about things not related to Transfiguration. He's trying to find out how far my education goes, I think, but recently, he's been asking about my personal life. About my bracelet, and about my relationships." He frowned and stroked a long line down her back and up again when she shivered in his arms again. "He watches me during meals, Tom. He follows me around. He finds me in the library. He _scares_ _me_, Tom."

That was completely unacceptable.

“I'll fix it. I promise I will."

"How?"

"I'll figure it out, I Promise." He tilted her head up before she could protest the Sealing of it and kissed her slowly.

"I love you, Tom."

He grinned wickedly at her. "And I love you."

** _Hogsmeade Path_ **

Tom and Eden were among the last to be returning to Hogwarts. He had insisted on walking her, and how could she say no to spending more time with him?

"Did you have a fun time today?" he asked softly. Her arm was tucked into his elbow, and they walked slowly.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I had the best day since school started. Thank you." She nuzzled his arm and breathed deeply. He stroked her hand, and they walked in silence for a bit longer before his grip tightened momentarily. She looked at him and furrowed her left eyebrow when she saw him smirking. "Tom?"

"Are there any customs in your time that you wished we had done?"

She laughed softly. "Well, there is one . . . " she trailed off coyly.

"Oh? What is it?"

"I swear to Merlin, Tom, if you make me say it again, I'm going to gut you." Neither noticed the footsteps that had caught up to them.

He laughed. "I fear I have become a bad influence on you, my beloved."

She snorted. "You're just now realizing this? After how many years of friendship?"

"Too many."

Her mouth dropped open, and she whacked his arm with her free hand. "Tom Marvolo Riddle!" she chided playfully.

"I jest, I jest," he weakly defended himself. He stopped in the middle of the path and turned her towards him. "There will never be enough time in the world to spend with you," he murmured. "There will never be enough centuries in an eon. There will never be enough years in a decade. Never enough days in a year. Never enough hours in a day, minutes in an hour, seconds in a minute. I will never tire of you, and I will never let you go." He stroked her cheek. "You're mine for eternity."

She held his hand against her face. "Eternity."

He lifted her slightly and pressed an achingly soft kiss to her lips. His tongue stroked the seam of her lips, and just as her tongue darted out to meet his, a throat cleared behind them.

They separated, and before she could register who she saw, Tom stepped in front of her. "Professor," he said stiffly. Tom began to tremble with repressed rage. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind in vain hopes to prevent him from doing something that could cause them some trouble that the vast stores of Slytherin’s Vaults or the influence of Slytherin’s name couldn’t fix.

"Tom, my boy. I didn't think I'd see you here so soon after graduation," Dumbledore said amiably, although she could detect a hint of stiffness in his words.

"I still have friends here."

"I didn't know that you and Eden were friends." She tensed at the familiarity, and she stepped out from behind Tom. He held his hand out to the side, almost as if it were to stop her, and she gripped onto it with both of her shaking hands—because that's why he did it.

"I would appreciate you respecting my wishes and not treat me with such familiarity, Professor."

"But, you're my best student."

"Be that as it may, Professor," Tom started, "it is still inappropriate to treat a student with such familiarity when you have no familial relations."

Dumbledore hummed. "True. I apologize, Eden—Miss Black. I was trying to make you feel more comfortable at such a vast change in your schooling."

"My tutors never treated me with such familiarity, sir. They had respect for my family and me. They wouldn't dare treat me the way you have, even if they had been given permission."

"Eden!" Multiple shouts of her name made her turn to the castle. Orion, Julian, Theodosius, Androtheny, and Marcus were running towards them.

Orion reached her first. "Are you okay? What's taking you so long? They're about to close the Gates. Please tell me you're not hurt."

She wrapped her arms around Orion. "I'm sorry to have worried you."

He collapsed against her. "Thank Merlin."

Theodosius ruffled her hair. "It's alright. We look after our own, little Eden." She stuck her tongue out at the name. She regretted telling them about that. "Tom had promised to have you back ten minutes ago, and when you didn't show at the Gates, we began to worry."

"We got a little held up," Tom hissed, still in some sort of . . . battle of wills with Dumbledore. "Professor, my beloved has told me some concerning things with how you've been treating her, and she admitted to me that she's scared to be here because of it."

Orion tensed and stepped in front of her, along with Julian and Theodosius. "What? What are you talking about, Tom?"

"I take it you haven't seen it?"

"No, I haven't."

"Tom, can we please just go back? I don't want to get in trouble for being late."

"Not to worry, my dear. I'll explain that I was the one to hold the four of you up. Now, if you'll excuse us, Tom, I'd like to escort my students back to the castle."

"I'll be joining you, as is my right as her intended."

The walk back was tense and silent. At the gate, Tom kissed the back of her hand, and her inner wrist before they parted ways after he exchanged a look with Orion.

* * *

** _Wednesday, October 31, 1945_ **

** _ Slytherin Common Room_ **

"You need to tell us what's going on, Eden."

The sixth and seventh years were all gathered around her, and the rest of the house was spread throughout the vast room.

She shook her head and curled in on herself further than she already had. Orion sat next to her. "If what Tom said is true, you need to tell us so we can help you."

"How can you help me?" she demanded in a quiet tone. "How can anyone help me? It's Albus _Dumbledore_, defeater of Grindelwald. Who would believe a Hidden Daughter over him?"

"I would," Orion urged.

"You're my brother."

"Just because I'm your brother, doesn't mean I have to believe everything you say. Now, tell me what's going on, so I can tell mother and father, and they can help Tom figure this out to make you feel safe again."

She shook her head and rested her chin on her knees. Her cheek was red and scabbing over from where she had scrubbed it for an hour.

It was the reason the House Meeting had been called in the first place. She regretted going into the first bathroom in the dungeons she could find. She hadn't even realized she had gone into the men's restroom until a Claimed Ravenclaw and a first year Slytherin had walked in on her.

"Professor Dumbledore follows her," a small voice spoke up. There was shifting of fabric, and a little muggleborn first year girl who had been severely abused by her parents—and was the closest thing Eden had to a female friend in this time—stepped forward.

"Maia, you don't have to say anything," Eden insisted.

She shook her head. "I see the way your hands shake after he leaves when we study. I see how scared you are to be alone. I see things that people don't think I see, because people forget about me."

"I don't forget about you."

"I know, which is why I'm speaking up."

"Miss Jasper—may I call you Maia?" She nodded and sat next to Eden on the couch. Orion knelt in front of the duo. "Maia, can you tell us what you've seen?"

The room was silent. "Eden and I study together. She helps me with my schoolwork and explains things that I don't fully understand. It's typically after she's finished her own homework and has begun studying for something else that Professor Dumbledore shows up. He always sits next to her and scoots his chair closer to her. He asks her about what she's studying, and when she's silent, he tries to force her to tell him.

"Sometimes, he lightly touches her shoulder or her hair. He always treats her with enough familiarity, that if one didn't know them, they'd think they were family. When we're walking in the halls, he'll stop us and ask about her personal life, and how things are with her relationships, and how she's settling into school.

"She told me once that in class, he had her demonstrate something, and when she didn't do it exactly as he had, even though she had been successful, he still guided her through the movements by touching her instead of showing her. Today, he stroked her cheek."

Maia went on to explain all of the little things she had noticed, and hearing it recounted made Eden shiver as disgust ran over her skin.

Orion placed his hand on her knee, and she flinched, and stood up, her magic forcing those around her away. She backed away from him and stopped only when her legs hit the hearth to the fireplace.

Memories of James and Lily flickered through her mind. Memories of being ambushed by Gryffindors made her knees weak. "No, no, no," she muttered. "Please, don't."

"Eden—" Orion stepped closer to her, and she tripped as she tried to step back again. She landed hard on the hearth. "Eden, you're safe here," he murmured.

"No! I want to go home, Orion."

His eyes widened, and his heart broke. She could tell by the tears in his eyes. "You don't mean that," he whispered so softly she couldn't hear him. Maia sat next to her, and didn't touch her, but close enough that Eden knew she was there to support her. "Eden." He reached for her again, and she flinched away once more.

"What's going on? Why did you call me?"

Eden flinched at Tom's voice, and the Common Room that had been filled with soft murmurs fell silent once more at Tom's voice.

"She wants to go home, Tom."

Before Theodosius finished speaking, Tom had her in his arms and was carrying her away. "She loves you," Maia called out. Tom stilled. "She trusts you. Don't hurt her, or you'll have to deal with me."

Tom chuckled softly and kissed Eden's hair. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss Jasper."

** _Slytherin Girls Fifth Year Dorm_ **

Tom placed Eden on the bed that her Trunk was at the foot of and knelt in front of her.

"What did Theodosius mean when he said you wanted to go _home_?"

She looked at him. "I want to go back to mum and dad—Melania and Arcturus."

The tight feeling in his chest released with a painful pop. He slumped forward, and his head rested on her thighs. "Thank the Olde gods," he muttered into her sleep pants.

"Tom?" Her fingers ran through his hair, and he leaned on his Occlumency shields to not start crying. He was a man. Men didn't cry.

(even though he was so relieved, all he felt was the need to cry)

Eden tensed. "**Tom**?" she repeated.

Someone must have entered the room. "**I thought you wanted to go back to your time**."

Her fingers stroked his cheeks, and he looked up. Her eyes were wet, and she tried to smile at him, but it fell flat. "**That's not my home, anymore, Tom. You're my home. Melania and Arcturus are my home. Pollux, Orion, and Lucretia are my home. I'm not going to leave you, Tom**."

Against his iron will, a tear fell from his left eye. She smiled at him as tears fell from her own eyes, and she leaned down and kissed his tear away, and then kissed him softly. "I love you, Eden."

She stroked his cheek and pulled him up next to her. She leaned against his shoulder, closed her eyes, and murmured, "I love you, too."

He kissed the top of her head, looked to the door, and saw a gaggle of female sheep standing in the doorway. He lifted a brow, and they all flushed, but didn't leave.

He turned to Eden. "Has it gotten worse since you told me about it?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He—he's starting to touch me, Tom. It's not in a . . . sexual way, but he's still . . . I still feel filthy whenever he touches my hair. Or my shoulder. It's . . . I've been bathing in hot water to try and get the feel of his touch off."

His eyebrows raised. "Hot water makes you sick though."

She nodded and leaned against him heavier. "Doesn't matter."

He lifted her into his arms before he used his magic to pull the covers on her bed back. He laid her down and stroked her cheeks as they readjusted to cover her.

"I'll make it better, I promise." He ran his fingers through her hair, and her eyes began to flutter. He Sealed the promise, and she laughed softly.

"You really need to stop doing that."

He laughed and kissed her lightly. "I'll make and Seal as many Promises as necessary to keep you safe and happy."

She kissed the palm of his hand, and he leaned down and kissed her softly again. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you. Sleep, my beloved."

She closed her eyes. "**Stay**," she murmured.

He said nothing and continued to stroke her hair until her breathing evened out. He kissed her forehead and stood.

He stalked towards the girls, and they scrambled to get out of his way.

"Full House Meeting. Now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you liked it, let me know what you think. No idea where Pawpaw came from.
> 
> About COVID-19. If you THINK you might have it: stay home. If you have been AROUND someone who has it: stay home. If you HAVE IT: STAY HOME. 
> 
> I was fairly healthy. I was knocked on my butt. Wear masks. Wash your hands. Social distance. My grandfather, extremely high risk, got COVID-19. We were lucky in that he got a mild case, but don't risk someone's life because you think you're healthy enough to leave the house. Don't take a risk you're not willing to deal with the consequences of. This is harsh, but so is the reality we now live in.
> 
> Stay home, save lives.
> 
> I love you all, and I hope you're all able to stay safe, happy, and healthy.


	39. 38 The End: Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for implied childhood rape of a semi-minor character on the date of July 1, 1946. It is only a single sentence and is only an implication, but it starts and ends at the *** for those of you who would like to skip it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge Mahoozive thanks to Ryuu for looking over this for me. You're an angel, and a saint, and I love you.

** _Wednesday, November 14, 1945_ **

** _ Slytherin Castle, Office_ **

Artemius' knocking on his office window brought him out of scanning his investments.

He hated the thought, but he would probably need to ask Eden what startups to invest in. Time had done the Slytherin Vaults and the Peverell vaults well, but the Gaunt Vault needed quite a bit of help, and all three were barely making money, since the last things they had invested in were now practically nonexistent. He pushed away from his desk and went to the window.

The silvery owl flew into the room and circled around the edges before she landed on the perch next to Hades. He retrieved the letter and received a fond nip.

_11/13/1945_

_My Dearest, Tom,   
_ _ What the hell did you do?_

He laughed softly and settled into the armchair next to the fire to read what would no doubt be an entertaining letter. He noticed with glee that there were several tears in the parchment and splatters of ink where her frustrations got the better of her.

_ I have lost all sense of privacy. My roommates aren't letting me out of sight, they surround me in the halls, and I had to threaten them into letting Maia sit with us in the library and at meals.  
_ _ Also, all of the other Slytherins are following me around. All. Of. The. **Damn**. Time. The only good thing that has come from it is Dumbledore can't get to me.  
_ _ I actually had to draw lines. I've never had to draw lines before. And they're not even following them! I just . . . I like people, don't get me wrong. But I can't study with them hanging around.  
_ _ Do you know how hard it is to study illegal things when people won't leave you alone? Orion passed on the fact that you call my glare the Teddy Bear Glare, and now every time I try and glare them away, they just coo at me and ruffle my hair.  
_ _ If it doesn't stop soon, I'm going to Curse someone.  
_ _ And I'll blame you._

_Love you.   
_ _ Eden_

His delighted laughter startled the birds. He read the letter a few more times before he wrote a response. When he sent Artemius off with his letter an hour later, another owl slipped in just as she disappeared from view.

Orion's owl, Dewy, landed on the perch, dropped the letter, and left.

He picked it up, worried about what could have happened that Orion wrote outside of their weekly correspondence, and quickly broke the Black Seal.

He frowned when his eyes landed on Eden's writing.

_ I may have made a mistake.  
_ _ I, uh . . . kind of blew a hole in the wall . . . and may have sent quite a few students through it as well . . . and then sealed it up . . . and locked the door . . .  
_ _ They can breathe. I think. But . . . I can't remove the locking spells.  
_ _ Is there any way you can help me?_

**_Hogwarts_, _Dungeons_**

"Are you sure you sent the letter?" Maia demanded from next to her.

Eden nodded. "Uh huh."

"And _recludo_, _resigno_, and _resero_ didn't work?"

Eden smiled at the first year, proud. "Nope. Neither did _patentibus_, _apertum_, nor _templum_."

"Did you try _alohomora_?"

"I will silence you again, Orion, Do. Not. Test. Me."

Most of Slytherin House stood around the classroom that Eden had locked 37 students in. A lot of the older years around her were sporting bruises or broken bones, and all kept a far distance from her except for Orion, Theodosius, Maia, and Noah's younger sister, Avra.

"It was a fair question," Avra piped in. Eden glared at the only girl in fifth year that she could stand.

(Eden often wondered if it said more about her or her dorm mates that Avra was a Ravenclaw)

"He was standing right next to me when I cast it!"

"Fair," Avra conceded.

Eden sighed and rubbed her forehead. "What are we going to tell Professor Slughorn?" she moaned.

"Nothing, because I'm going to fix it."

Eden's face stretched into a grin, and she turned to Tom. "Thank _Merlin_, you're here."

He waded through the injured students and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Anything for you, my love. Now, what did you use to lock them in?"

She shuffled for a moment before she caved under The Look. "The Curse of Barriers and the Curse of Locks." He Looked at her some more. "They wouldn't leave me alone! It was self-defense!"

"Uh huh. And the rest of the House?"

"Uh . . . injured in the breaking of the wall?" she squeaked.

"Liar," Orion coughed into his hand.

"I will turn you into a duck, do not try me, Orion."

"Eden?"

"I . . . may have . . . challenged a few people . . . to a duel . . ."

"And?"

"There were casualties."

He snorted softly and squeezed her shoulders. "I see that."

"Just help me get them out! They've been in there for hours!"

"Have you tried the Counters for each Curse?"

She gave him an unimpressed look. "You know as well as I do that the Counter for the Curse of Barriers reacts poorly with any locking spell, charm, curse, hex, or Curse. You also know that the Counter for the Curse of Locks reacts poorly with the Curse of Barriers. I wasn't going to risk blowing up the entire castle."

"Good girl." She scowled and elbowed him in the stomach. "I see someone is in a lovely mood today." He placed his hands on her shoulders. She had started her period during History of Magic—her body was still trying to re-regulate itself since moving to the past, and it had come a week early—and Professor Binns was alive, and fantastic and taught more than just goblin wars, and didn’t let anyone leave the classroom unless they were dying by his definition which meant _ghost_. "What do you remember about Ward Disabling?"

"You have to do it one Ward at a time or risk there being a Ward Backlash,” she immediately began to explain. “You need to go from weakest to strongest, slowly dismantling them, because it's quite often that the weaker Wards are strengthening and boosting the stronger Wards."

"And when Ley Lines are involved?"

"Blood is typically best to use and access Blood Magic because it makes it easier to feel the Wards and the Ley Lines and be able to time the breaking of them with the Pulses from the Ley Lines. If you're in the crosshatches of a group of Ley Lines, you have almost no hope to do it slowly because the Lines repair the Wards. You should just blast through them and hope for the best."

"Very good. What you've done here is similar to Warding. However, instead of using Ward removal techniques, you need to use Curse-Breaking techniques. Almost the same rules apply with Curse-Breaking as they do for Ward removal, the main difference is, is you need to undo all of the Curses at once instead of one at a time."

"Are you going to make me do it?"

He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The raging, petulant, and embarrassed beast that had been clawing at her soul since she had bled through her skirt and thick robes and onto her seat, calmed. "Morgana, no. There's too much of a risk of it going wrong. I'll be doing it, and I'll teach you how to do it at a later date."

He flicked his wand, and his magic surged in the air around them and held her in a loving embrace as he unBound his Core and let it flow freely around them. He murmured something in a language she didn't understand under his breath, and the magic around them began to tighten before it snapped. The door in front of them swung open and they were greeted with 37 pairs of wide eyes.

Theodosius stood and dusted off his pants. "Well then," he started, "it's good to see that you haven't lost your skill with the wand. Or your temper."

Orion scoffed. "I could have told you that."

Eden tensed before she flicked her wand at him, and in his place stood a fairly ugly duck. "I told you I'd do it."

The duck drooped. "Let's go to the common room, I think there has been a slight misunderstanding between all of us."

** _Slytherin Common Room_ **

Tom stood in front of the hearth where Eden sat with her knees against her chest with Maia on one side and Avra on the other.

"What is the number one rule of Slytherin?" he asked softly.

"Stick together," everyone chanted immediately.

"Very good. Second rule?"

"Don't get caught."

"Third rule?"

There was shuffling. "Loyalty to our own."

"Lovely. From what I've seen since I left, the first two have been kept fairly well, the second rule in particular. The third rule could use some work."

"Yes, sir."

"Who is he?" Maia whispered to her. "Other than your intended."

"The best student Hogwarts has ever seen," Eden replied.

"Second best," she stated at her normal volume.

"I beg your pardon?" Tom asked, aghast. He had paused at Maia's question—Eden figured it was so the 59 first years would know (the vast numbers still shocked her; 1,649 students were a lot of people—there were 67 students in her year in Slytherin _alone_).

Maia paled before she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. "You're the second-best student Hogwarts has ever seen."

Tom's lips twitched, and Eden had to stifle her laughter when he quickly glanced at her and winked. "And who's the first?"

"Eden."

Tom laughed softly as he looked fondly upon Eden. “I happen to agree wholeheartedly with that assessment, Miss Jasper.” The murmurs increased in volume and more students shuffled around in agitated guilt as Tom turned to face the masses once more. “For those of you who do not know, have forgotten or have chosen to ignore the fact, Eden is my intended—"

Avra bumped Eden’s shoulders and wiggled her brows at her, and Eden hexed her, so her eyebrows were a shade of green that clashed horribly with her pink eyes and red lips. “You are so lucky,” the girl whispered into Eden’s ear.

“What about Alphard?” Eden hissed back. She had seen the fifth year and sixth year stealing glances at each other throughout their short friendship, and from what she had gathered, it wasn’t a recent attraction.

Her distraction was successful when pink eyes left her and went to find a pair of gray eyes already staring at the trio from across the room. Eden and Maia giggled when Alphard’s face flushed a delicate red.

She was able to go back to Tom’s little speech—that she had missed a majority of, to be honest—just as he finished. “—I am Lord Slytherin.”

He looked around at all of the students and, judging by the look on the students' faces she could see, his face was quite terrifying. "When I said protect Eden and keep her away from Dumbledore, I didn't mean smother her until she was ready to blow you all to bits. You don't have to guard her in the Common Room."

"You said to guard her," a seventh-year girl she didn't know spoke. "We're doing as you said."

"You're acting like Dumbledore will waltz into the Common Room at any moment. He's not the Head of Slytherin. He's not allowed in here."

"He's done it before," the same girl said.

Tom froze, and Eden poked him with her magic, and his back relaxed slightly. "What do you mean he's been in here before?"

"Last year, he came in about once a month."

"What did he want?"

"Information on you," Theodosius answered. "No one gave him anything other than what is widely known by the school. He's completely clueless when it comes to Slytherin Politics."

Tom turned to Eden and crouched in front of her. He placed his hands on her knees. "You said in Hogsmeade that he asks you about your relationships."

"Yes."

"Anything in particular?"

"At first it was just in a broad sense, trying to see if I had friends, I guess. Then . . . after—after Hogsmeade . . . he started asking about you in a way that I couldn't misconstrue to be someone else. Trying to find out more about you, your goals, likes, dislikes. When he figured I wouldn't tell him anything, he started asking the same questions geared towards me. Then . . . then he started touching me."

Tom looked into her eyes. "**It's times like these that I wish you weren't a Natural Occlumens**."

Eden laughed softly. "**Me too**."

He stood and turned to the rest of the Slytherins. "It appears that Dumbledore has a small _obsession_ with me." The Common Room was filled with horrified murmurs. "I'll see what I can do to keep him out of here. I'll also write to the Board of Governors to see what can be done as well."

That started a chorus of agreements, and students saying they'd do the same.

Tom turned back to her and knelt on one knee. He rested an elbow on his knee and grabbed her chin with that hand. "And you, my dear, are going to write to your parents, and you are going to tell them _everything_ that has been going on."

She nodded, and he kissed her softly.

"Good girl."

* * *

** _Friday, December 14, 1945_ **

** _ King's Cross Station_ **

"You're going to come visit, right?"

Avra and Eden grabbed their bags that contained their shrunken luggage, and Eden nodded. "Yes, I'll try. Uncle Pollux is spending the Yule Holidays with us for the first time in a long time."

Avra hummed thoughtfully. "Noah asks about you, you know."

"Does he?"

The two stepped off of the train. "Yes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say brother dearest was in love with you."

"Now, now, sister dear. Don't go spreading rumors that could very well get me _maimed_," Noah chided as he draped his arms over the two girls' shoulders.

“Oh, but I would so _love_ to see you be maimed, brother dear.”

"Noah," Eden interrupted before the two could _actually_ start fighting—it wasn’t pretty, from what she had heard.

"My Lady," he greeted pompously.

She rolled her eyes. "Have you seen Tom?" Melania and Arcturus had written to her the prior morning to inform her that she would be meeting with Tom instead of them.

"He's where we were last time."

"Thank you!"

She slipped out of his hold and easily webbed her way through the crowd to the darkened corner filled with one person leaning against the wall. She stepped past a certain point, and a thick Privacy Ward fell around her. He pushed off of the wall and wrapped his arms around her. "I missed you," he murmured just before he kissed her.

She was able to pull away long enough to whisper, “I missed you, too,” against his lips before he was devouring her once more.

He kissed her for a moment longer. "I have permission to take you somewhere. We'll be apparating."

She nodded and wrapped her arms tight around his waist. Instead of immediately apparating like she expected, he lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips as his magic wrapped around her. He smirked at her, and she bit his nose, to which he responded with a deep kiss.

** _Slytherin Castle_ **

Her back pressed against the harsh bark of a tree, but that didn't register, because at the same moment, Tom bit her lip.

Her hold on him tightened, and his hand snaked up from where it held her thigh, up her side, before it wrapped around her throat. She moaned softly as realization hit her on what he was going to do.

_Finally_.

The kiss deepened and the hand at her throat began to slowly tighten. Unlike the other Punishment Kisses, the kiss wasn't frantic or borderline painful while he cut off her air supply with his mouth and hand—it wasn’t a _punishment_. The kiss was slow, sensual, and had her entire body tingling as his hand finally cut off her oxygen after she got a final deep breath at his urging.

Her hands tangled into his hair, and she began to pull in gentle, rhythmic pulses. Unlike the other kisses, where he'd somehow deepen it and speed it up whenever she’d pull on his hair, he slowed the kiss _down_. He sucked on her tongue lightly, bit her lips softly, and he continued to torture her until soft whimpers left her throat as she clutched desperately at his hair, no longer gentle as she began to writhe against him.

Her grip began to loosen due to lack of oxygen, and he pulled away, but didn't loosen his hand. She tried not to panic as black spot began to dance in her vision. Confusion flushed through her when she felt his nose at the skin under her right ear, and then everything happened at once.

He released her throat as he ran his teeth along the column of her neck, and the inhale and her tilting her neck back forced her flesh into his teeth. His name fell into the air on a breath of a whisper as pain lanced across her shoulder and ear. She tightened her arms to pull herself closer to him and buried her face into his neck as her mind turned to complete mush. She went lax as his soft laugh shook them slightly before he ran his tongue over the new mark on her neck. The pain the action caused her to sigh and shift closer to him with a deep exhale. “Eden?”

"Hmm?"

"You alright?"

"Perfect."

He laughed softly and murmured a healing spell, and her neck tingled as his magic caressed it. "I may have pressed a little too hard, I apologize."

She shook her head. "It was perfect."

"My lovely masochist," he murmured.

"My handsome sadist," she whispered.

His fingers ran through her hair, and it was quite some time before she had enough brain function to pull away from his neck. "Where are we?" They were surrounded by a dense forest, and it was filled with natural sounds one would find in a forest, and there was the scent of fragrant dirt, but underneath that was the heady scent of ozone.

"Where I hope to raise our children one day. Our future home."

"We're going to live in a forest?" she asked, still not completely functioning.

He laughed and adjusted his grip on her and pulled her away from the tree. He stepped from around it, put her on the ground, and turned her around.

In front of her on top of a low rising hill with water surrounding all sides, and a long stone bridge, similar to the one at Hogwarts, a large castle stood in front of her.

"Welcome to Slytherin Castle, my beloved."

She leaned heavily against the chest behind her. "A castle. We're going to be living in a castle."

He laughed and squeezed her shoulders. "Yes."

She stared at it for a bit longer. "It kind of looks like Neuschwanstein, only green and a bit . . . bigger."

He laughed again. "It's about twice the size of Neuschwanstein."

"That's big. Too big for two people."

His arms wrapped around her shoulders and upper chest, and she placed her hands on them while she rested her chin against them and put her full weight against Tom. "Well, you need to consider the house elves, any guests we might have. Abyss and Thorin." One arm escaped her grasp and rested low on her stomach, where her womb was. "Our future children," he murmured into her ear.

She turned in his grasp and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I look forward to it."

His answering grin sent her heart thundering in her chest, and the gentle kiss that followed nearly had her crying.

* * *

** _Saturday, December 22, 1945_ **

** _ Black Manor_ **

"Again!"

Eden groaned and pushed herself up onto her elbows. She glared at the man with long, silvery hair. "Don't give me that look, girl. Do it again. We'll keep going until you get it right."

"What about the Ritual tonight?"

"If you haven't gotten it down by then, we'll pause for the festivities, and then we'll start back up until you get it perfect. No sleep."

"Damn you, Uncle Pollux," she grumbled under her breath as she pushed herself up to her feet. As she straightened, the hair on the back of her neck raised, her exposed skin started to tingle, and the scent of ozone grew thicker in the air that was already heavy with it. Habit brought on by Tom's sadism, and Sirius' morbid training schedule, forced her to bring up a Raw Shield.

Not what she was supposed to do.

(she nearly cried)

A dark blue light hit the Shield and harmlessly dissolved. "Very good," the spunky old geezer praised. "Now, let's see if you can listen to _instructions_ and complete this very _simple_ task that I've set out for you."

Before they could start on the seemingly endless cycle once more, a house elf popped in. "Lord Slytherin has arrived, Young Miss."

Pollux's eyes grew in delight. "Send him in." The house elf popped away, and he turned a wicked grin towards her. "Maybe your intended will give you inspiration needed to do as instructed—"

"No, Uncle, please. Don't take him from me today. You've had me all week—"

"And I'll keep you until I am satisfied with your performance."

"You're a bad teacher."

"Beg pardon?" He cackled and pulled his hair out of his face, pulling the top half into a quick top-knot-bun-thing.

"_You_, Uncle Pollux, are a _bad_ _teacher_." The door behind her opened, but she paid no mind to it. It was probably Melania or Arcturus coming to watch them train—there was no way Tom would have made it there that quickly from the receiving room.

Pollux had gotten it into his head that since she was now a Black Daughter, she needed to know the Family Magicks. The problem was, the Family Magicks still hadn't fully accepted her because they hadn't done a blood adoption. _That_ was scheduled for the week before she went back to school, and the goblins would not only perform the blood adoption Ritual, but they would change her blood to alter her date of birth to match with something that wouldn't raise unneeded questions, i.e. her birth year was going to be changing to 1930.

"I have taught your cousins and siblings this perfectly fine."

"Because they were born Black!"

"You were adopted Black, by blood, in your own time."

"Then why have They not accepted me!?" she snarled, frustration of the new changes that had happened, the harassment at school, being kept from Tom a majority of the break, being worked to the bone trying to learn a Magick that _obviously _didn't want her to learn It. "Why am I not good enough for the Family Magick?" she shouted. Her voice echoed in the cavernous room. "I can see the Aether. I can speak to the Aether. I can _bend _the_ Aether _to_ my _will. I can cast the Darkest Curses to have _ever_ existed, so why can't I use the Family Magick? Why am I not _good_ enough?"

Pollux started to speak. "Now, listen here—"

"No! _You_ listen to _me_, Uncle. In my time, I was _nothing_. I wasn't good enough to be a Potter. I wasn't good enough to be a Black. I wasn't good enough to be a Malfoy. And here, it turns out to be the exact same. I'm not _good_ _enough_."

Her legs weakened, and she sat curled on the ground with her chin on her knees, her eyes dry, but her heart and Core crying out in pain.

The crisp, sweet, scent of cinnamon sugar and cigar smoke filled her nostrils as Pollux sat next to her. He held his wand out to her in a gesture he had done many times before. She put the tip of her wand against his, and like always, nothing happened for a moment, before a weak crimson light glowed before it stopped.

"The reason why you're struggling so much, Eden, isn't because you're not good enough. It's not because the Family Magicks deem you unworthy. It's because you're not letting Them accept you." He was silent for a moment, as if he were thinking about what to say next. "Your intended's Lordship Rings, are they cold or warm?"

"They used to be cold for a moment before they would warm up in the beginning, but now they're just warm."

"That's because you've accepted his Family Magicks', and They you. I know you came back for Tom. I know for a while you stayed _only_ because of Tom, and now you've found reasons to stay other than him. I'd like to think that that has stayed the same. Has something happened at school to make you Reject our Magick?"

"There's some things going on at school that make me want to be homeschooled, but not anything that makes me want to go back to my time and lose everything I've gained."

"Dumbledore?"

"Yep."

"Still touching you?"

"When he can."

Pollux sighed. "If I could, I'd rip him limb from limb, starting with those vile hands of his."

Eden giggled. "Is there any way you'd let me watch?"

Tom watched on in fond shock as Pollux and Eden debated torture tactics. The rest of the Blacks who knew about Eden stood around him, and a shrunken Abyss stood next to him.

"**Can I go to her _now_**?" Abyss questioned for the seventh time in two minutes.

Tom sighed. "**We need to wait a few more minutes**."

"**But why? I miss her, and the Silver Geezer has kept her from me. He is lucky I have not torn him to bits yet**."

Tom lifted a brow at the Hellhound. "**Why have you not shredded him yet? You bit _me_ and broke my arm when I kept you away from her after she arrived**."

Abyss shifted. "**She asked me not to**."

"**She threatened no magic, didn't she**?" It was more statement than question.

The hound whimpered. "**Yes**."

He chuckled softly. "**She really does know how to control you**."

Abyss snarled and shifted his head so one of his horns poked his thigh and successfully pulled the attention of Pollux and Eden towards them. “Dammit Abyss!” he hissed. He pushed the Hellhound away and pressed his hand into his bleeding leg.

It was barely without a thought that he healed the injury as his beloved began to stand. She paused in the movement before she looked to Pollux for permission. The man inclined his head, and Eden scampered over to him.

She wrapped her arms tight around his neck, and to accommodate for her lack of height, he picked her up. “How does it feel to wear your own workout clothes again?” he asked as she wrapped her lean legs around his waist and tucked her head into his neck.

“Bloody _amazing_,” she sighed.

“Language,” Melania weakly chided as she, Arcturus, and Lucretia moved further into the room and sat on the chairs to the back and side, next to Orion, that were meant for people to be able to watch.

“I’ve been trying for years, my Lady Black,” he said as he adjusted his grip to Eden’s thighs. “It seems that she just won’t listen.”

“Excuse you!” She pulled her head out from his neck and wiggled out of his embrace. He couldn’t stop the laughter that left his throat at the pure indignation on her face as she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “_You_ were the one who _taught_ me how to swear you bastard! Don’t blame it all on _me_!”

He lifted his hands in mock surrender and took a step back. Abyss, bless the Creature, pulled Eden’s attention towards him, and the tense lines of her shoulders relaxed as she crouched and began to pet the dog-sized Hellhound and feed him magic.

Behind her, Pollux pressed a finger to his lips, and confused, Tom reluctantly agreed to stay silent. However, his magic was at the ready, as it always was whenever he was near Eden—but considering where they were, he’d give her a chance to do as instructed before he’d allow his magic to overreact. Content with his cooperation, Pollux flicked his wand and a deep purple light filled the room.

Tom’s eyes widened in absolute _horror_.

Before he could do anything to block the deadly Curse sailing almost mellowly through the air and towards Eden, she straightened from a tense Abyss, turned, flicked her wand, and a large, black raven spilled out of her wand and wrapped around the Curse and stopped it halfway between her and Pollux.

The raven glowed blue before it flew up and turned in the air and dove towards Eden and began to shrink. It entered her chest with a shockwave that pushed him and Abyss away from her, and the veins in her body that carried her magic and Lifeblood glowed the same blue for a moment before the raven emerged out of her back. It grew back to its full size and soared around the room a few times before it reentered Eden’s wand.

Eden’s knees collapsed under her, and he and Abyss scrambled to catch her before she fell and hurt herself. She sat heavily on the Hellhound’s back and leaned against Tom’s legs as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

Pollux moved towards them with a manic grin on his face before he crouched in front of Eden. He pressed a finger to her face. When he pulled it away, a small smear of blood was on it. He conjured a white handkerchief and gave it to her. She pressed it to her nose, and Pollux ruffled her hair.

“Congratulations, my dear. You did it.”

** _Ballroom Balcony_ **

"Tom! What are we doing?" Eden demanded as he lightly tugged her out onto the balcony. The Yule Ritual had finished an hour ago, and the Blacks were hosting a large ball in celebration—like they did every year.

He turned to face her and stroked her cheek. "Do you trust me?" he demanded softly.

"Of course, I do."

His heart thumped in his chest, like it always did whenever she said something like that—especially when it was an instant answer like that. She had been the first person to trust him unconditionally, and the first person to like him without being scared of him. She was his first friend, and she would be his last lover.

His eternal lover.

"Then follow me. We need to be quiet so we can sneak away from Pollux."

If he didn't know better, he would have thought that Pollux thought of Eden as his own child and was far more protective of her than he should be—in Tom's opinion.

She giggled and laced her small fingers through his, and he grinned brightly before he tugged her to the edge of the balcony. He pressed her into the farthest—darkest—corner and placed his hands on either side of her on the railing. He bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Her long fingers curled into his hair, and he groaned softly as heat began to pool low in his stomach. He broke the kiss and stared into her dazed eyes—he'd never get tired of that look (especially since it was _him_ who caused it). "Are you ready?"

"That wasn't it?"

He smiled fondly and stroked her cheek. "No, it wasn't."

A slow smile spread on her face, and it took everything in his will to not get her to the nearest horizontal surface where they wouldn't be disturbed. "Okay then. I'm ready."

Dammit.

She was making it _hard_.

"Hold on tight." Her hands slid up his chest, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her waist before he apparated them to the center of the hedge maze.

"I like apparating with you," she murmured. "I don't get sick."

"It's because I've figured out a way to help you."

She pulled away and looked at him teasingly. "Oh? How so?"

A low, guttural, growl built in his chest before he swept her into his arms. "Careful," he rasped in her ear before he nipped the cartilage with first his teeth, then his lips.

"Or what?" She began to run her fingers through his hair, and that horizontal surface was looking better and better, and more worth the consequences than ever before.

"Your family will have my head on a pike because I'll have made you _mine_ in every sense of the word," he whispered before he nipped the lobe of her ear.

Her hold tightened on his hair before she released him. "I'm sorry for—"

He kissed her to shut her up. He would persevere. He would not give up being able to touch her because some people had more reason at all times than he did at sometimes. Her tongue tentatively brushed against his lips, and he groaned before he opened his mouth wide and allowed her to take control.

His control over his hormones and actions always seemed to shatter when he allowed her to do so, but it was _so_ worth it.

Sometimes he missed the time they'd have at Hogwarts. It was short, sweet, and unknown—to a point—how long she'd stay, which made his more . . . _primal_ needs easier to temper. Now though, she was his, _all of the time_. There was no time limit, nothing keeping them apart other than school and her family, and those problems were easily remedied.

It was times like this, where he knew he shouldn't be alone with her, times where he didn't care enough about the consequences to listen to the little voice in the back of his head whispering _abstinence_.

He had been abstinent since Eden had appeared in the middle of the night in sixth year and saw him bedding a girl he didn't even remember the name of now.

Everyone paled in comparison to his beloved Eden—especially whenever she did _that_ with her tongue.

She ended the kiss, but instead of pulling away like he thought she was, she began to mouth at his cheek and jaw. He groaned low and pressed her tighter to him. She kissed his cheek before she mouthed it and made her way back behind his left ear. His eyes fluttered as he tilted his head to the side so she could have as much access as she could ever desire.

She sucked at his neck for a while—long enough to let him know he was going to have a hickey—before her lips moved up to his ear.

Her teeth nibbling on his lobe broke what little composure he had been able to retain. "**Eden**," he growled.

She must have heard something in his voice because the next thing he knew, she was on one side of the clearing while he stood in the center _aching_ and _wanting_. "I love you, Tom. I want you to live long enough so I can show you how much I love you on our wedding night and every night after that."

"Is there a chance it can be moved to tomorrow?" he begged in a deep voice.

She giggled. "I don't think so. You'll have to ask father."

That did it.

He still burned for her in his blood—mind, soul, heart, magic, in everything that he ever was and ever could be—but no longer was he willing to compromise her virtue or her desire to stay pure until she was married. He moved to her and held her close against his chest. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too."

"As cute as this is, your uncle is looking for you, and we all know what he'll do if he finds the two of you alone," Abraxas drawled as he, Abraxas, Theodosius, Amaryllis, Noah, Androtheny, Orion, Marcellus, Julian, Evan, and Marcus entered the clearing.

"How long were you watching?" Eden mumbled from his chest.

He looked to his Knights and lifted a brow. _A while_, Noah admitted silently. "Not long," he said.

"Didn't see a thing," Abraxas backed up.

His eyes flickered to Orion, and he chuckled softly at the desire to murder him, and the need to submit warring in his eyes.

_Touch her, and you're dead_, he mouthed.

Tom lifted a brow. _Fiancé_, he mouthed back.

Orion flushed as the need to maim beat the desire to submit. "I'm gonna—"

"Ri?"

Bless Eden's pure soul.

Orion paused before he turned to Eden. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

His fists clenched at his sides before he smiled at his sister. "Yeah. Everything's perfect." He wrapped Eden in a hug, and over her head, he drug his finger across his throat.

_You're dead_, he mouthed.

Tom just smiled sweetly.

* * *

** _Monday, January 21, 1946_ **

** _ Horace Slughorn's Office_ **

Eden took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

She placed her Mask and twisted the knob and hesitantly poked her head in. The larger than average office had been expanded, and Professor Slughorn, Headmaster Dippet, Tom, Melania, Arcturus, Pollux, three unknown men, and an elegantly dressed woman sat around an oval table.

"Come in, please, Miss Black," a man with a crisp black mustache—that unfortunately reminded her of noodles—spoke.

She stepped into the room. "You asked to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, please, come have a seat."

The only open seat was between Tom and Arcturus. She closed the door behind her and kissed Arcturus, Melania, and Pollux on their cheeks and sat down. "Might I ask what this is about? Have I done something wrong, sir?"

It took everything she was to not flinch when Tom's left hand slowly curled over her right thigh. "No, no, my dear, nothing of the sort," Slughorn soothed. "Candied pineapple?"

"No, thank you."

"It's quite good.” He opened the tin and pushed it towards her despite her refusal, and she shied away from it. “Why don't you have—"

"I'm deathly allergic to pineapple, sir," she interrupted.

He paused and blinked many times. "I apologize, I didn't know."

"It's fine, professor. Not many people do."

The room was bathed in an uncomfortable silence. In order to not fidget, she placed her hand on top of Tom's. He turned his hand and laced his fingers with hers. A wave of calm magic washed over her, and she sent a gentle nudge in thanks towards him, and he squeezed her fingers three times.

"Well, I think we should begin," Headmaster Dippet started. There were a series of agreements. "It has been brought to our attention that you feel very . . . _uncomfortable_ here at Hogwarts."

Well. That was one way to put it.

She shifted slightly and tightened her hold on Tom's hand. "Yes, sir," she murmured softly. She looked down at her and Tom's hands.

"Miss Black, can you look at me?" She lifted her eyes and met the eyes of a blonde man who looked shockingly like Lucius. "Do you feel ashamed?"

She looked down again. "I guess."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm not too sure. I mean, I don't ask for the attention, and I feel . . . gross having it. I feel like there must be something wrong with me for him to be so focused on me."

"Who?"

"Professor Dumbledore, sir."

The room was silent, and she didn't look up from her lap where Tom now rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb while he squeezed her hand.

"Miss Black." Eden looked up at the unknown woman's voice. "Do you know why I'm here?" She shook her head. "My name is Julia Smith, I am Lady Hufflepuff. Lord Slytherin and I are here to represent you and your needs. You are in a safe environment. He and I are already on your side. All you have to do is tell us what's been happening from your viewpoint."

She looked down at their joined hands once more and shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it again. I don't want to relive it again. I just want to go home."

Tom, seemingly deciding that hiding their relationship no longer mattered, wrapped his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her head. "I know you don't want to, Eden. I know you just want to hide from it all, but we need to be able to stop him from doing something like this in the future."

She knew what he really meant.

If they were going to make any true changes in the world before her friends and family were born, Dumbledore needed to be taken out sooner rather than later.

"Every time I think about him," she blubbered into his chest, "I feel filthy and violated. Every time I'm in class with him, I feel disgusting. Today he—" She bit her tongue.

"What did he do?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Eden—"

"Please, I can't—I can't think about it. I just want the memory erased."

"Would you be willing to put the memories of your interactions with Professor Dumbledore into a pensieve?"

Eden nodded at the suggestion from the Lucius look alike.

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Tom pressed a kiss to Eden's forehead before he stepped away and towards the pensieve. Pollux, Arcturus, and Melania stood on either side of her. They had no interest in witnessing the memories—he suspected that it had something to do with the Black Family Madness and them wanting to avoid potentially 'activating' it.

He only wanted to see the memories because he needed to see how much Hell he was going to put the man through before he finally relinquished him to the public.

The memories were worse than what he had anticipated them being. Everyday there were interactions between the two of them.

There were memories of her roommates, of Avra and Maia, of his Knights, trying to keep her away from him. There was the memory of the night he walked upon them on their way back from Hogsmeade—with certain damning details blurred and muffled.

There was a memory the day she had returned from winter break of him waltzing into the Slytherin Common Room—Theodosius, Julian, and Orion had played interference while Avra, Maia, and Toby—one of his newer Knights—snuck her out of the room.

The memory that was earlier that day made his blood boil. The thoughts she had had only made it worse.

_"Good, can you tell me what _avis_ does?"_

_Maia was silent for a moment. "I didn't read about that, but I'm assuming from the name it has something to do with birds, right?"_

_Behind the three oblivious girls, Dumbledore followed._

_"Very good," Avra praised._

_"When I was reading, I came across a magical term I didn't quite fully understand."_

_"What was it?" Eden asked softly._

Tom couldn't help but notice the way Slughorn's eyes flickered towards him with a pale fear before he focused on the memory surrounding them once more.

_"It was a classification chart. Curse was on it twice, but it didn't go into detail."_

_"That's because there are two types of curses. The first type is the more . . . humane, we'll say. A curse is always dangerous. The intent behind most, if not all curses is to cause either permanent damage, or death. A Curse, always with a capital C, however, is by far much worse than a mere curse. A Curse will typically have the name Hex of, Bane of, Curse of, and so on. A Curse's intent is to not only damage the body permanently, but to damage the soul as well."_

Tom couldn't help the pride that welled up inside him. She would make a fantastic teacher one day if that's what she chose to do.

_"Oh, so . . . one is just worse than the other?"_

_"Yes."_

The girls hadn't seen it, but those viewing the memory did.

_Dumbledore pulled out his wand, and with three flicks, had all three girls tied up, and in a classroom, with Maia and Avra unconscious._

_Dumbledore moved to stand in front of Eden. He crouched in front of where she laid on the ground. "Let me go," Eden hissed. "Let _them_ go. We've done nothing wrong."_

_Dumbledore reached out and stroked her cheek. Disgust rippled along her bones, and she desperately wished for Tom to come save her. "Oh, my dear Eden, that's where you're wrong." The vile old man tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before he stroked her cheek once more. "You see, you've let him corrupt you."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Tom Riddle. He's nothing but evil."_

_"You're wrong. He's good. He's kind, caring, and helpful. You're just looking for the bad, and you're making it all up."_

_"Oh, darling, sweet, naïve, Eden. He has you under his spell. He's only been pretending with you because of who you are."_

_"You're lying!"_

_"He's only with you because you're a Black—"_

_"I am nothing!" Eden shouted. Her magic ripped out of her body and undid the bindings on her and her friends. Dumbledore restrained her with only his magic, and pain ricocheted along her body as his Light magic tried to mix with her Pure Dark magic. "I. Am. _Nothing_. Without. Tom. I am _lost_ without Tom. Tom has saved me more times than you will _ever_ know, Dumbledore. I am who I am _because_ of him. He could have thrown me to the wolves to be done with me, but instead he protected me. He guided me and taught me. He is my best friend, my future husband, and the man who will be the father of my children. I will not let you sabotage him."_

_Dumbledore chuckled softly. He flicked his wand, and his magic integrated with hers, and she began to writhe on the ground. Blood began to pour out of her nose as he sat on her stomach._

_"He has you so fooled that you've become a lost cause, Eden. It's such a shame because you have so much potential. In fact, I believe that you're the one who found the loophole around my Blacklisting his name in the Ministry." He looked into her eyes before he laughed. “You are,” he stated with awe. “How I wish that I got to you first.”_

_The man leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, and he began to chant lowly against her lips. Panic filled her body as she realized what he was trying to do._

_He was trying to force her magic into a Lash-Back severe enough that it would kill not only her, but Avra and Maia as well. Her magic began to burn, and she desperately began to try and think of something that would distract him long enough, but also wouldn't aid him in his goal._

I believe in you, Eden. All you have to do is believe in yourself_, Tom's voice echoed in her mind._

Noey! I learned the Patronus Charm_! Leif's voice in the dead of night echoed in her mind._

_She didn't have her wand, but she could still cast it._

_"_Sal—Salvatorem_—" She began to choke on her magic. "—_Expectamus_!" A large phoenix burst out of her chest and threw Dumbledore off of her._

_She spasmed on the floor for a moment before Maia and Avra crowded around her and held her body down. Avra held her head in her lap, and Maia pressed on her stomach._

_"What do we do, Avra?" Maia begged_

_"I don't know! I don't know! Noah would know—" the fifth year cut off into a round of coughing sobs._

_Maia looked desperately from one fifth year to the other and took a deep breath. Her hands began to glow, and slowly, Eden's body began to still as Maia's Pure Neutral magic began to fit in between the fragmented bits of Eden's._

_Avra caught on to what was happening, and she placed a hand on Eden's stomach and began to do the same, and her Dark Gray magic began to fit in between fragments of Pure type magic._

_By the time Eden's body was still, the first and fifth year were sweating messes. "Maia," Avra gasped, "go get Orion. Someone, _anyone_, with a Dark type Core."_

The memory ended, and the seven viewers were pushed out of the pensieve. Before he adjusted to being back in reality, he marched over to Eden and held her shoulders in his hands. "Where. Is. He?"

"I don't know," she gasped. "He was gone by the time I was coherent again." He started to move from her, intent on finding the bastard and making him pay, when her small hand on his wrist stopped him. "Can you hold me? It still hurts, Tom."

Immediately he turned and wrapped her in his arms. He began to rock her side to side and blend his magic with hers. Her body began to rhythmically shutter against his, and he looked to the ceiling and blinked away his own tears. "I'm so sorry, my Eden. If I had known—"

She shocked him, and he laughed softly. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. It was my choice too, not just yours."

"You're right. I apologize."

He lifted her into his arms and sat in his seat. She nuzzled her head into his neck as Arcturus sat next to him. He ran a hand through her hair. "I am so sorry, my daughter."

Tom wondered if he would hold as much love for his own children that Arcturus held for his daughter. Even though the man hadn't seen what the bastard had done, he still trembled with cold fury.

(Tom knew he would slit the throat of anyone who looked at any of his children wrong)

Horace stumbled to his chair and fell into it with a groan. His eyes were wide and his face pale. "Merlin's beard," he muttered.

Armando, Septimus Malfoy, Jian Chang, Amarian Prewett, and Julia followed his example and shakily sat at the table. "How could—"

"That bastard," Julia snarled. "To treat a woman—a child like that—_despicable_."

Armando looked to the Board of Governors Presidency. "I don't know what to do with this information. He needs to go—" He swallowed, almost like he was going to be sick. "Horace, do you have something to drink?"

A half-empty bottle of Fire whiskey floated over to the table along with eleven glasses. A finger was poured into each glass before they were distributed to each of the occupants. Eden turned away from the glass that nudged her hand that was curled into his robes.

"Miss Black, no one would judge you for indulging after everything you have experienced."

"My magic is not stable enough to risk it."

"**What's the other reason**?" Tom whispered in her ear after the adults began discussing what to do.

"**James and Lily were always worse when they were drunk. I Vowed I'd never drink hard liquor in case I was just like them**."

He sighed and kissed her head. "**You're nothing like them, Eden**."

She shrugged and snuggled into his chest further. He took a small sip of the whiskey and kissed her head as he sighed. "Obviously he needs to be removed from the grounds immediately."

"I agree," Julia snarled. She knocked back her glass, and it refilled itself. "The other girls—Avra and Maia—they need to be sent to the hospital wing to make sure no injuries were given to them. Also, to make sure their magic is fine. Same with the students who helped."

"I don't know who they were, but Orion would. I vaguely remember him being there."

Slughorn nodded. He wrote a quick note and sent it off. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

Orion entered the room. "Mother, father? Uncle Pollux? What's going on?" His eyes landed on Tom and Eden and realization flooded his eyes. "Does this have anything to do with what happened this morning?"

"Yes, please, come in."

Orion ruffled Eden's hair before he sat in the chair between Melania and Pollux. "What do you need to get that son of a bitch out of this school?"

"We're working on it, but firstly, we need all of the names of those who helped stabilize Eden's magic. They need to be examined to make sure that nothing happened to their own magic, and Maia and Avra need to be examined thoroughly as well."

"Miss Jasper and Miss Smith are already with Healer Jones due to some physical injuries received during the confrontation. The other students who helped stabilize Eden were I, Theodosius, Toby, Marcus, Julian, Damian, Scarlett, Amia, Felicity, Mavis, and Noah Smith. Noah has already examined those who helped."

"Mr. Smith graduated last year,” Slughorn stated with a frown.

"We were desperate, sir," he swallowed. "We would have called Tom, but as you have no doubt seen, he is very . . . protective of Eden. I was afraid that if we called him, nothing would have been able to stop him from killing the man after Eden was stabilized once more."

"You are correct, Orion. Nothing would have been able to stop me had you called me. Not even Eden being in pain."

She laughed softly and fire coursed through his veins. "That's just like you," she murmured. Her magic relaxed and wrapped around him, and the fragments were finally fully healed.

"I love you," he murmured into her curled hair.

"I love you, too."

* * *

** _Saturday, February 16, 1946_ **

** _ Hogsmeade_ **

Eden wrapped her arms tight around Tom’s neck.

She breathed in his comforting scent as he pulled her flush against him. She ignored the murmurs of students around him as she nuzzled his neck with her nose. “I missed you,” she murmured into his skin.

He lifted her so her heels no longer touched the snow-covered ground. “I missed you as well,” he whispered before he pulled away enough to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“**As did I**.”

Eden laughed and wiggled out of Tom’s reluctant arms. She looked between him and an extremely proud Abyss. “I take it you refused to let him come alone?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around the Hellhound and pushed magic into him. He purred, pushed her over, and climbed into her lap.

“He threatened to make me his next meal,” Tom whined. She laughed and pushed Abyss off of her and stood. She dusted the snow off of her butt and smiled at her two boys. “We ended up compromising.” By the way he said the word, she assumed there was quite a bit of verbal and physical fighting between the two before the ‘compromise’ was reached.

“Oh? And what is this _compromise_?” she teased.

“**I am to be with you until lunch**,” Abyss said proudly, as if he had won the world by being able to be with her for that long.

Considering the two rarely saw each other, it probably felt that way for the Hellhound.

“Then it’s going to be _just_ you and I,” Tom finished.

She laced her fingers with his and pulled him close to her and whispered in his ear, “I look forward to it.” She kissed the lobe before she slipped away from him and went to her familiar, unaware of the heated look he sent her way.

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Eden's back hit the brick wall with a harsh intensity that stole her breath away. Tom's lips nipped and kneaded the skin of her throat as she gasped for air.

His magic fell around the two of them into a thick privacy ward. His hand grasped at her side while his other gripped almost painfully at her thigh, just below her butt.

He pressed her further into the wall when her lungs finally started to cooperate with her again, and his hands slid up her body until both rested on her sides, just below her ribs.

"Tom," she groaned when he bit her collarbone. He growled and did it again. Her back arched slightly and he moaned against her skin. "**Kiss me, Tom**."

His lips trailed up her neck, peppering small kisses until their lips connected in a slow, intense kiss that stole her breath away. His tongue idly slipped into her mouth as his hands slowly moved, leaving scorching fire through her clothes. One came to rest on her right hip and the other curled around the back of her neck.

She was soon lost to the world as he seduced her with his mouth, and when he finally pulled away, she didn't know if she had died and gone to heaven, or if she was still alive and aware of who she was.

"I love you," he murmured. His breath brushed against her lips as his forehead rested against hers.

"I love you, too." He pulled her away from the wall and carried her into the woods. "I can walk, you know."

"I know. I enjoy holding you, though."

"Aren't I too heavy?"

He paused and looked at her with a lifted brow. "Darling, you're perfect, if not frighteningly light."

She flushed slightly. "Okay." He walked a bit further. "How's work?"

"It's going well. All of the Vaults now have a steady income, and the Wizengamot meetings, while slightly boring, are quite fascinating in how similar everything is to Slytherin politics."

She hummed. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Snow crunched under his feet as he jumped over a small, frozen stream. "How's school?"

"Better. A lot better, actually. The new Transfiguration Professor is a little young in my opinion, but he's doing quite well. The harassing of the Gryffindors has stopped since the trial and everything that _he_ had done was revealed, and the Slytherins are no longer smothering me."

"I bet that's your favorite part," he mused softly.

"You know me so well," she teased. "I still miss you terribly, though."

"I know. I have some good news though."

"Ooh! What is it?"

"Arcturus and Melania gave me permission to have you spend the spring break with me as long as we have a chaperone with us."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

* * *

** _Tuesday, April 2, 1946_ **

** _ Slytherin Castle—Gardens_ **

"You know," Eden started lightly as she and Tom strolled through the vast gardens arm in arm, "when you said 'chaperone', I thought you meant someone like Noah or Abraxas, or even Orion. Not Uncle Pollux."

Tom laughed and kissed the back of her hand. "As did I, my love. As did I."

"No affection!"

The two teens laughed and tried to ignore the man who was 'attempting' to give them the illusion of privacy. He had been glued to their sides since the break began a week prior and had even gone as far as locking both of their doors at night.

Not that that stopped Tom.

He had spent almost every night holding her while they slept, and she hadn't slept that well in a long time.

* * *

** _Monday, July 1, 1946_ **

** _ King's Cross Station_ **

Eden stepped off of the train with Maia holding onto her hand anxiously.

Avra had her hand on the first year's shoulder and floated her trunk behind them. "What if they show up?" Maia whimpered. She stepped closer to Eden, unknowingly causing her to trip.

"If they show up, I hex them. It's as simple as that," she stated candidly.

Maia heaved a wet laugh. "Okay. Are you sure your parents will let me stay with them for the summer?"

"Of course."

"And if they don't, you'll stay with us," Avra soothed. "You're not going back to an abusive household. We'll find somewhere for you to stay."

The three easily weaved their way through the crowded train station to a dark back corner where the Black and Smith families waited with Tom.

(they were well aware of the Slytherin's eyes that followed their journey and even those who had begun to follow at a distance to make sure that Maia stayed in a safe environment, be it magical or not)

"Noah! I've missed you!" she cried in a posh accent that had the pink-eyed teen laughing.

She wrapped her free arm around his waist as he pulled her close. "How are you doing?" he asked before he ruffled her hair.

"I'm doing well." She proceeded to greet everyone but Tom. She turned to him and laughed at the sour look on his face.

"Am I chopped liver?"

"No. I simply saved the best for last." Maia reluctantly let go of her hand so she could give Tom a real hug. "I love you."

He sighed and hugged her back. "I love you, too," he murmured before he tilted her head up and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"No. Affection!" Pollux growled.

The two laughed but didn't separate. She turned in his arms and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She rested her chin against them while she curled her hands over them. "Maia, my family. Family, Maia."

Melania smiled. "I've heard so much about you, Maia. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Maia smiled shyly. "Hi, Lady Black."

Melania cooed. "Oh, sweetie, call me Melania, and my husband Arcturus."

"No," Eden cut in, "call him Arcy." Tom chuckled behind her and kissed her hair—much to Pollux's dismay.

Arcturus groaned. "If it pleases you, you may call me that."

"Mother, father, I was wondering if Maia could stay with us this summer."

Melania smiled. "I don't see as to why not, as long as her parents approve."

"They've already given their permission," Eden smoothly lied.

Arcturus and Melania shared a Look. A very intense Look. "Maia, is there something that you need to tell us?"

Despair ricocheted across Maia's face, and Eden's heart crumpled. Slytherin’s began to converge onto the scene.

"Maia Jasper!"

The group flinched at the angry voices. A well-dressed couple shoved their way through the crowds of Slytherins who had their families prepare an extra bedroom ‘just in case, please?’ as they approached them. "How dare you leave us waiting here with these—these creatures?"

"Well, they got one thing right," Noah quipped easily. "Granted, we're not full creature. We have gorgon blood, and we can turn people to stone if we get mad enough, but other than that we're pretty much human."

The muggles' faces contorted into horror. "Maia, we're leaving now."

"You know," Eden started lightly, "you should smile more. Might get rid of those wrinkles."

"Ooh!" Avra cooed, "we could give them some anti-wrinkle cream. It'll work wonders!"

"They'll have to put a bit of their magic in it first—oh wait. I forgot," Eden sneered.

"Maia!" The little first year was picked up and spun around by Orion. "So, what did mum and dad say? You staying with us this summer? You going to fight for the favorite little sister spot?"

Maia giggled and wrapped her arms around Orion's neck to prevent herself from slipping out of his arms. Alphard fought his way through the crowds and came to stand next to Avra and Eden.

(she couldn’t help but notice with glee that his hand rested lightly on the small of Avra’s back)

"She's already won it with me," Eden said softly.

"Of course, she has. You're the youngest."

"Maia, what is this hooligan talking about?"

The girl swallowed as Orion put her down. "I'm—I want to stay with my friends."

***

"No. You're needed at home. We have . . . meetings set up with very important people. You remember Mr. Claude, don’t you?"

Maia tensed and hid behind Orion, and suddenly every witch and wizard watching the confrontation understood _exactly_ the kind of abuse Maia went through.

***

"I'm afraid you'll have to have to cancel those meetings," Arcturus stated softly.

"See here—"

"No. You see here. We have a rule. Loyalty to our own. Maia, the moment she entered our world and got Sorted into Slytherin, became family. Family doesn't hurt one another."

"She's our daughter. We're her legal guardians," the man said smugly.

"Be that as it may," Tom started, "you only have rights over her in the muggle world. In our world, _I'm_ her Magical Guardian. If I feel her home situation is dangerous, I have full rights to remove her." The man opened his mouth to speak, but Tom spoke over him. "And because you're not wizards, you can't do anything about it."

"Maia, do you have everything you want from your home?" Pollux demanded. She nodded. "Wonderful," he started, "I'll contact the Obliviators, and by this time tomorrow, Maia will be my official ward."

Eden looked to the spunky old geezer—who truly wasn't that old, but still—and smiled gratefully.

Hopefully he'd be so busy with Maia, she and Tom would be able to spend some time together.

* * *

** _Wednesday, July 31, 1946_ **

** _ Manor Black_ **

Tom and Eden were _not_, in fact, able to spend time together.

Pollux, having self-designated himself as Tom and Eden's official chaperone, moved from Paris and into the Black Ancestral Home in Coventry with newly seventeen-year-old Alphard and eight-year-old Cygnus. His wife, Irma, had died during childbirth with Cygnus, and it appeared that adding Maia to the mix between the two boys had done a wonderful thing for their family dynamic.

It was almost with reluctance that Eden allowed Orion and Walpurga to get married earlier that summer. Walpurga seemed to be the only Black family member that she hadn't been able to change her views on blood purity.

Granted, Walpurga didn't know Eden was from the future, so she couldn't show her the research that had been done, but at least this way Sirius would be born.

With Orion and Walpurga in the Black Townhouse in London and Lucretia and Ignatius in their own home, there was hardly anyone to play goalie between Pollux, Tom, and Eden—especially since Melania found great entertainment from it, Arcturus was firmly behind Pollux's reasoning, and Abyss was a selfish bastard who _helped_ the damn old geezer.

They were able to steal a few minutes alone every day before Pollux would find them, and then they'd spend the rest of the day inside the manor with her—their—family instead of the garden maze that the two were quite fond of.

Abyss had taken to spending his days and most nights with Eden, mainly because after Pollux would fall asleep, he and Tom would come into her room using his shadow-walking abilities. She and Tom would spend the night talking about anything and everything while their familiars lounged on their laps or flew around the room.

Thorin and Abyss most _definitely_ did not like being miniatures of themselves, but after it had been explained the reasoning behind it, the two were reluctantly accepting of it.

(they weren't)

After she'd start to grow tired, Tom would tuck her in and hold her until she fell asleep, and then she'd wake up in the mornings with her arms around Abyss and his nose pressed against hers.

The morning of her sixteenth birthday, however, was different.

Fingers ran through her hair and nails gently scraped along her scalp. She wrinkled her nose and buried her nose into Abyss' chest. A deep chuckle sounded behind her before fingers ran through her mid-thigh length hair once more.

"Go 'way," she grumbled.

Tom had come just before midnight, and the two had stayed talking well into the night. She had no memory of him leaving, but she was still tired at whatever unholy hour it was.

Fingers ran through her hair once more. "Wake up, Eden," Tom murmured.

She released the Hellhound—much to his displeasure—and turned in Tom's arms and curled one arm over his side and knotted the fingers of her other into the front of his robes. "Go sleep," she grumbled into his chest.

"You see, I would, but Pollux is currently glaring daggers into my head and is fingering his wand."

"He can go screw himself."

Tom laughed and kissed her forehead. "It's your birthday, beloved."

"So, let me sleep, fool."

"**I agree. Leave us and let us sleep**." Abyss tucked his feet and curled into Eden's back. "**I cannot wait until I am my true size once more and I can hold you the way that you hold me**." It was something the hound constantly bemoaned and commented on, and to be honest, it was something that Eden looked forward to.

"See? Abyss understands. Maybe I'll marry _him_ instead. He lets me sleep." There was no way she was going back to sleep, but she enjoyed the cuddles she was receiving from Tom.

"Pest," Tom joked lightly before he attacked her sides and began to tickle her.

This sparked an impromptu tickle war that had Abyss scrambling for safety as she squirmed and squealed. Tom caught both of her hands in one of his and he pinned them above her head and began to run the fingers of his other up and down her sides.

"I yield! I yield!" she shrieked.

He released her and pulled her weakened form onto his lap. "**Promise you'll marry me**," he hissed in a voice that was decidedly unsure.

"For eternity."

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"Your birthday gift from me is . . . " Pollux paused for dramatic effect, "you get 90 minutes together alone with Tom."

The couple exchanged a look before they sprinted out of the manor and to the grounds. Tom wrapped his arms and magic around her before he began to fly. Within moments the two were in a clearing that was occupied by a giant weeping cherry tree.

Eden was convinced that it was some magical breed of the tree, because it was nearly 100 feet tall and nearly twice as wide—more than double that of a mundane weeping willow. It had magnificent branches that stretched in every direction from its large trunk, and the pendulant branches were eternally covered in beautiful baby pink blossoms year-round except for whenever it snowed, and then the branches were covered with glittering icicles and magnificently intricate snowflakes.

Her favorite part about the clearing wasn't the magnificent tree, it was what was hidden behind the nearly three-foot-thick wall of blossoms that really took her breath away.

Tom placed her on the ground and laced his fingers with hers. He pulled her into his side and the two entered the privacy that the tree gave them.

As usual, Eden paused just inside the curtain and stared in awe at the sight. Eternal Fairy Lights bobbed around the space, filling it with a warm golden glow. A high-backed swing large enough to comfortably fit two people hung from a magnificent branch 30 feet from the trunk.

The vines that held the vine-weaved seat were covered in small forget-me-nots during all of the seasons except winter where they would morph into snowflakes.

"Can we get married here?" she asked softly. "Just you and me for the Bonding?"

Tom kissed the side of her head. "Whatever you desire, it shall be given to you," he murmured. He pulled her over to the seat and sat her down on it. He knelt in front of her and rested an elbow on his knee and held her face with that hand. "You are everything to me, Eden. You are the reason that I am who I am. You are the reason I am where I am, and because of that, I will give you the world should you ask it of me."

She held his hand to her face and pressed a kiss to his palm. "I already have the world, Tom." She cupped his cheeks. "right here in my hands. I don't need anything else."

He curled his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a slow, deep kiss.

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"Pollux," Arcturus hissed.

"What?" he responded.

"You promised 90 minutes. It's only been 30."

He rolled his eyes at his older brother. "I am well aware of that fact. I still need to make sure that _fiend_ doesn't destroy her virtue."

He could hear his brother's eyes roll behind him as he approached the large tree. "If Tom _does_ decide to destroy her virtue, brother dear, it would be against her will—and we both know he wouldn't do that. And, if it _was_ a mutual agreement between the two of them, there's _nothing_ you could do because of your promise."

He grit his teeth and decided to ignore the truth his brother spoke. "Either be quiet or go away." He cast silencing charms on his feet and quieted his breathing before he slipped into the confines of the tree.

His niece and her intended sat on the swing. She was curled into his side, and he gently rocked them back and forth as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"Do you think we'll ever get used to it?"

"Get used to what, beloved?"

"Not being able to spend hours a day unsupervised together. I get where they're coming from, I really do, but we've been together romantically for a year and a half now. If we were going to do something to 'compromise my virtue' we would have done it already."

The fiend laughed and kissed the top of her head, and it was only Arcturus holding him back that kept him from breaking his promise. "I'm not sure if we'll get used to it, per say, but we only have two more years left before we marry." He kissed her head again. "I am both grateful and resentful for it."

"Why?"

_Yes, little fiend, why? Give me a reason to hurt you._

"When we were at school, it was easy to keep control. Now though, with me being able to take my time and woo you properly, I just fall more in love with you every day—more than I did before. I've always loved you more every single day, but since you came to stay, it's only increased exponentially. Because of that, sometimes all I want to do is show you how _much_ I love you, and that results in fracturing control on my part. I am grateful because I am able to respect your wishes easier. I am resentful because some part of me is convinced that you want it just as much as I do, and that the only thing stopping you is the potential of getting caught."

She was silent before she spoke, and when she did, her words were slow. "You're right. There are times that I want it more than my desire to wait for marriage. But I also know that if we were to do that, I would regret it, and I don't want to regret any time spent with you. You know my reasoning for waiting, as I told you before we started dating.

“I know that we're getting married, and it's a guarantee in a world where there aren't many, but there is still a part of me—a very small part, mind you—that fears something will happen, and that guarantee will turn to a possibility. For some reason though, that small part is a screaming voice in my head whenever things start to get . . . heated."

The fiend kissed his niece's head and held her closer. His blood began to boil, and again, the only thing that stopped him was Arcturus.

The fiend hissed something to his niece, and she responded in kind and the two kissed.

Arcturus' hand clamped around his mouth. "Don't. You. Dare."

Eden giggled softly at Arcturus' hiss, and climbed onto Tom's lap. If they didn't want them to be aware of their presence, they'd need to Veil their magic. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and the two pretended to kiss while she peaked over his shoulder. "They're still watching."

Tom laughed and kissed her for real. It was soft, chase, and completely innocent, but Pollux's whimpers and struggling could easily be heard. "Want to give them a show?"

"That's my father and uncle, Tom."

"So?" He pressed his lips to her neck. "It'll teach them to not eavesdrop." He licked a long line from her collar bone to her ear where he began to nibble on the lobe.

She groaned softly and her eyelids fluttered. "You don't have to live with him."

He bit her neck, and she moaned softly. "You'll have Abyss to protect you." His hands slid under her shirt and began to run addicting circles on her sides.

"He's completely on their side," she groaned. He licked at her throat some more.

She sighed, allowed her eyes to flutter shut, before she grabbed his hair and tilted his head up. She lifted herself to her knees and slanted her lips across his.

He groaned into her mouth before he took violent control of the kiss. The world around her was forgotten as his tongue swept through every inch of her mouth and his hands held her flush against his body. Her fingers curled into his hair, and she pulled lightly at the strands. A deep groan resonated against her chest as his grip tightened and the kiss deepened.

She sucked lightly on his tongue, and that seemed to be his breaking point because the world tilted before her back pressed against the fragrant grass. The whimpering struggles on the other side of the tree fell on deaf ears as Tom pulled away and allowed her a deep breath before his hand wrapped tightly around her throat.

He kissed her soft and slow, and fire burned through her veins as he pressed his body against hers. The kiss slowly deepened until she was a whimpering mess as she desperately held on to him. Her lungs began to burn, and he bit her lip harshly. Her body squirmed against his, and he pulled away. His nose trailed across her skin until it nudged against her ear. He pressed a soft kiss to her skin before he sucked lightly.

"Tom," she weakly gasped with what little air she had left. He smiled against her neck and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin just below her ear. Her mind grew foggy as his teeth grazed against her skin. A moment passed before his hand gradually loosened to slowly allow more air into her painfully aching lungs. The pain flowing along her nerves caused her to gasp into the air, and something wild and painful seemed to settle within its home in her soul as the pain and feeling of restraint freed and grounded her. Tears leaked out of her eyes at the amount of relief she felt, and she curled into him and grasped desperately at his body.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

"I love you," she whispered as he licked at her skin.

"I love you, too." He cast several healing charms before he lifted her into his arms and settled on the swing again. The two slowly rocked back and forth as she remained a limp noodle in his arms. "It didn't hurt too much, did it?"

"No. It was perfect."

He chuckled and kissed her head. "I got a little carried away. I apologize."

"Don't. I like it. I love it."

He kissed her head again and he began to hum lightly. She didn't recognize the tune, but it still sent her into a realm of relaxation she could only get with Tom.

Time passed sluggishly as the two basked in each other's presence. The whimpers and struggles of the two grown men fell on deaf ears as their world shrunk to them and the slightly creaky swing.

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When the 90 minutes were up, Tom prepared himself for the attempt on his life that was about to happen.

It never came.

Instead, Pollux and Arcturus entered the little haven from in front of the swing. Neither looked like they had been violently wrestling and not-so-silently hexing the other 50 minutes prior.

"Is she asleep?" Arcturus asked softly.

"Yes." He couldn't help himself and pressed a kiss to Eden's hair.

Pollux whimpered. "No affection," he weakly sniffed.

He couldn’t help but needle the man. "Is everything alright?”

The man glared. "Fine. Give her to me. I'll put her to bed."

"No, brother. Tom will put her to bed. It's my gift to them."

"Sir?"

"As long as you Vow to not taint my daughter's virtue, you will be allowed to spend three nights a week with her. I've noticed how she's happier when you're around, and more well rested after you two share a bed." Arcturus gave him a look.

Tom nodded, refusing to be embarrassed by his love for Eden. "I Promise I will not do anything to compromise Eden's virtues and wishes until we are married. I Promise to never touch her without her permission. And I Promise to keep her happy." He Sealed the Promises, and Arcturus smiled, while Pollux glared.

"Go. Sleep. We'll see you in the morning."

* * *

** _Sunday, September 1, 1946_ **

** _ King's Cross Station_ **

The rest of the summer break passed in a blissful blur.

It had been a pleasant surprise waking up in Tom's arms with a dry nose, and he had explained the Promises he had made to Arcturus, and he made the same Promises to her as soon as she was successfully coherent.

Abyss, however, had not been pleased that their nightly cuddle time had been interrupted and reduced down to four nights a week.

He had a wonderful time making his displeasure known by leaving the half-eaten carcasses of his prey in Tom's bed whenever he slept with Eden. He'd also make it known by making sure to poke Tom with his horns every time they saw each other and staying completely glued to Eden's side whenever he could.

It had gotten to the point that she had to drug him with magic so she could go to school. Sadly, doing so left her weak, due to a certain kind of strain she hadn't felt since arriving in the 40s.

"I'm so weak," she grumbled into Tom's chest. He held her up and was the only reason she wasn't flat on her face dead asleep.

"No, you're not. You just gave Abyss too much magic."

"Blegh."

He laughed and kissed her head. He picked her up into his arms. His magic washed over them, and she buried her face in his neck. He sat her down on a bench before he sat next to her. He draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

She didn't like that.

She weakly crawled into his lap—much to his amusement—and forced him into giving her a Super Tom Bear Hug.

"You are aware I have to leave soon, correct?"

"Don't care. You're coming with me. You'll be my familiar."

He hummed and slipped a hand under her top. "I find that I don't particularly want to be your familiar." She pouted against his neck. "I want to be your husband, not your familiar."

She grumbled into his neck. "Boo."

The two fell into a comfortable silence which was broken when Avra, Maia, and Alphard—Avra's _suitor_ (finally)—stepped into the compartment.

It was only because Avra and Maia replaced Tom that she allowed him to leave.

* * *

** _Wednesday, June 30, 1948_ **

** _ Hogwarts Grounds_ **

"Tom!"

Eden giggled as he tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her further away from the graduation party in the school.

"What are we doing?" she demanded. She tripped on something, and he slowed long enough to stabilize her before they continued on with their game of tug of war.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course, I do."

"Then follow me," he replied cheekily.

She groaned but stopped fighting him and allowed him to tug her to the far side of the Black Lake. It was just outside the Wardline, but close enough that it didn't register her having left the property. She and Tom had met there numerous times over the last two years for him to train her and help her study for NEWTs.

There was also kissing. And touching.

Lots of it.

He led her over to the large tree and gently pressed her up against it. He pressed his lips softly to hers and lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his hips and buried her fingers into his perfect hair.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," he rasped against her lips what seemed like an eternity later. "I am so proud of you, my Queen."

She tightened her legs around him, and he moaned. She pulled his lips into a deep kiss which had them both panting and wanting by the time they broke away.

"I love you, my King," she whispered. She kissed along his neck and nibbled on his lobe. His grip grew painful, and she grinned into the pain. "I love you, my Lord."

With an animalistic snarl, he slammed his lips on hers before he pulled away with her bottom lip between his teeth. "Don't—" he gasped. "Not until we're married."

"As my Lord commands," she giggled. He groaned and placed her on the ground.

"You're making this so difficult, you know that, right?"

She pretended to think before she nodded. "I know."

He laughed and kissed her softly. "My little sadistic masochist."

"My handsome masochistic sadist," she whispered against his lips.

He stroked her face before he stepped away. He took a deep breath and turned to face the lake. She stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "What's wrong?"

"I can never hide anything from you."

"After seven years of friendship and three of those dating, I would hope that you don't want to hide things from me."

He turned. "I don't ever want to hide anything from you. The reason I am . . . tense today, is because I've been thinking about something. I've been trying to figure this out for a while now, and I can never figure out how to get it right."

"You know you're perfect to me, Tom. I'll still love you."

He kissed her softly. "Alright. If my Queen insists. From the day I met you, and you told me you were from the future, I decided that you were mine. No one would take you from me, and I would use you to become the strongest wizard in the world. Then you disappeared. But then you came back. It happened over and over again, and I constantly lost what mattered most to me. It taught me to treasure you and the time we had together. Sometimes, I've taken granted of you. Sometimes, I've been worse than the devil in the things I've said and done to get what I wanted from you."

He stroked the scar on her hip from the last fight they had that was more than just words. He hadn't liked the fact that she and Theo's maternal great uncle had gotten close, and they'd fought about it and ignored each other’s existence for nearly a month before he apologized.

"I know I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing. I know I am the worst thing that has ever happened to you. I know that I am the only bad thing about you. But, Eden, you are the _best_ thing that could have ever happened to me. You are the only good thing about me. You are the one person who I would give the world and my ambitions up for if it would make you happy."

Her eyes began to burn. She had already known everything he was saying. However, it was different to gain knowledge from someone's actions than to have them tell it straight to your face.

"Eden, I _can't_ let you go. You are my life, my love, and the mother of my future children. You are the only thing that keeps me from burning the Ministry to the ground on a daily basis, and you are the only thing that has kept my fear of death at bay enough to stop at three Horcruxes."

He knelt on the ground in front of her, and the tears began to fall as he pulled out a ring with a large, starburst cut diamond surrounded by a halo of emeralds. "Noah Eden Potter, will you marry me?"

She nodded weakly as she bit her tongue and tried to smile. "Yes," she whispered. "A thousand times, yes."

He gently took her left hand into his and slipped the ring onto her bare finger before he stood and kissed her deeply. "I love you," he whispered against her lips.

"I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you guys liked it, I hope to have the rest of it up by the end of the week. No promises though. 
> 
> Thank you for all of the well wishes about healing from COVID-19. We've all recovered from the worst of it. We're just in the long haul of recovery now. When they say you're exhausted after the worst part, you're *exhuasted*. 
> 
> Anyway, stay safe, happy, and healthy.


	40. 39 The End: Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge ginormnorm thanks to Ryuu and Mango. You two are life savers, and I love you both dearly.
> 
> Trigger Warning for labor at the end of the chapter.

** _Saturday, July 10, 1948_ **

** _ Manor Black_ **

Eden fiddled with the ring on her finger while Melania, Lucretia, Avra, and Maia pulled at her hair, did her makeup, and painted her nails.

"I really wish that the two of you would pick a different Bonding," Melania griped for the fifteenth time that day.

"You're lucky I was able to convince him to have a legal ceremony for you to all witness," Eden responded softly.

"But, still. Why can't we be there?"

She smiled softly. "Because it's an old Bonding Rite, and very intense. It's not meant to have viewers. It's just supposed to be the husband and wife."

She had explained this to her family many times since she and Tom had announced the Bonding they had chosen to do over Yule holidays, but they all seemed to be fairly unwilling to budge on the insistence that they be there.

Surprisingly, Pollux was the only one who didn't complain about the Bond Rite they had chosen.

Melania just hummed and _accidently_ poked her scalp with a hairpin—that apology was by no means sincere.

After what was _far_ too long of primping, the four were done poking and prodding her, and helped her into her dress.

It was fairly simple—in Black terms, it was simple. It was white silk with lace hand stitched to the fabric with diamonds spelled on everywhere to add enough sparkle to sate the eternally burning desire in her soul to become glitter—but not too many that the dress was gaudy. It had a sweetheart neckline with sheer off the shoulder sleeves and a fitted top—demonic _corset_—until her waist. At her waist it flared out into a beautiful A-line skirt that faded into a sheer lace train that was longer than she was tall the moment it touched the floor.

Once she was laced into the dress, Melania stepped back and immediately started to cry.

"What's wrong?" Eden demanded as panic began to build. "Does the dress look bad—did I smear something? What did I do wrong—"

Her frantic questions were cut off when a large mirror appeared in front of her. "Oh."

The dress was prettier than it had been when she chose it over the spring holidays. Her long mid-thigh hair was curled and pinned away from her face and styled so it looked either like a waterfall, or a beautiful nest of snakes. Her makeup was light—as was typical in this time period—and the only differences was the shade of her lips—which were a deep crimson—and the length of her eyelashes as she had forgone eyeshadow completely—over the years they had slowly lessened the dosage of the eyedrops until her natural eye color was the normal shade everyone saw (which she was eternally grateful for because no more itchy eyes).

The only jewelry she wore was her engagement ring which caught on the light, and the locket that Tom had made her years ago and now housed a small fraction of his soul.

(Tom hadn't been pleased when he learned that her boggart was him dying from making a Horcrux, and that was what made him stop at three)

"Oh," she said again. Her eyes began to water, and she rapidly blinked to try and prevent ruining Avra's hard work.

Her best friends cooed before they crowded around her and hugged her. "You look beautiful," Avra murmured into her ear.

Maia enthusiastically agreed, and she was able to laugh and turn away from the mirror. The laughing and joking around was interrupted by a knock.

Melania opened the door, and Arcturus, Pollux, Orion, and Noah all strode into the room.

"Abraxas and Alphard are with Tom keeping him from finding you," her brother announced. He paused when he actually looked at her. "You're beautiful, Eden."

A sob startled everyone, and to her immense surprise, Pollux was crying. "Oh, my darling," he whispered. He stepped forward and hugged her. "I'm so proud of how far you've come."

She hugged him back. "Thanks, Uncle Pollux."

He stepped away and was immediately replaced by Arcturus who had wet eyes but wasn't crying. "You look beautiful, my dear."

"Thanks, dad."

Orion stepped forward and hugged her softly and kissed her cheek before Noah kissed her cheek. “Tom’s one lucky man.”

“You’re a lucky man too,” she whispered in his ear. “Your future wife is stunning.” He preened slightly before he pulled away.

Arcturus cleared his throat. "Well now, I think it's time to go sign some parchments and then have a Bonding."

Eden grinned and nodded. Sebastian was taking roughly ten world tours in her stomach, and her hands shook, but despite the unease—was it truly unease though?—she was so happy she thought she was going to burst.

"Mum, is my Bonding Robe—"

"In the guest bedroom along with Tom's waiting for you to change into. The Wards around the clearing are in place, and we were even able to convince Abyss, Thorin, Echo, and Nagini to guard the Wards and scare everyone away before they spend the night here."

Eden blinked. "Wait. You're telling me you convinced a Hellhound, a Dire Raven, a Hell Bat, and a War Serpent to stay away from their Humans?" They nodded. "Where are their _bodies_?"

"**We are here, Eden**," Abyss stepped next to her and bumped her hand.

"Abyss! No!" Maia shouted. "Don't get fur on her dress!"

Maia had had dogs when she lived in the muggle world, and she still hadn't fully realized that Abyss wasn't a mere dog. But, Abyss also listened to her, so Eden wasn't going to ruin it.

"**I apologize, Maia**," he said with a bow—he also respected her enough that he had given her the ability to understand the Language of the Underworld. He took a step away from her before he spoke again. "**You look exquisite, Eden**."

"Thank you, Abyss."

A small Bat landed on Orion's shoulder. Echo was twice the size of Abyss in her true form, but she enjoyed being able to fit in Eden's palm whenever she wanted—it had been interesting to learn that instead of nurturing Shadow Walking and other inherent Hell Class Abilities, she had nurtured an extrinsic ability to shrink herself and return to her normal size at will.

"**Oh my. You're _stunning_, Eden**."

She smiled at the Bat. "Thank you, Echo."

A knock on the door startled everyone. Abraxas poked his head in. "Tom is starting to panic and wonder where you are—oh, Merlin you're beautiful."

"Awe, thank you." She wanted to make a comment about the excavation of the wizard, but Maia and Avra didn't know she was from the future, and she had no intention of ever telling anyone else that she was—not even her children (which Tom fully agreed with).

"Come on, before he hexes me. You've tempered him, but he's still very much curse happy."

Eden laughed, and together with her family by her side, made her way to greet her future.

** _Ballroom_ **

"Tom, my boy! There you are!"

Internally, Tom groaned; externally, he plastered a smile on his face and turned. "Professor Slughorn. It's good to see you again." Alphard patted his shoulder and with a wink and cheeky grin, ran away as fast as he could.

Lucky son of a bitch.

The man laughed and patted his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you! Head Boy, King of Slytherin, _Lord_ Slytherin, marrying the Queen of Slytherin and Lady _Emrys_ . . .!"

The man was drunk.

Where was Eden? She needed to save him from _killing_ the man.

" . . . and the fact that you invited little ol’ me? _Astonishing_!" Tom tuned out whatever the professor was spouting on about and nodded politely and made vague sounds of agreement whenever the man paused for a breath.

He nearly showed his relief when Abraxas and Noah came trotting down the stairs with Orion, Pollux, and Arcturus following at a more sedate pace.

His two closest friends made a beeline toward him. "Sorry, Professor, but we need to borrow the groom for a bit." The blonde and raven tugged him away and pulled him into a small alcove next to the stairs.

"No hexing any men when you see her, alright?"

His eyes narrowed, but reluctantly agreed. "Are you ready?" He visibly flinched at Melania's voice. "She's standing at the top waiting for the go ahead."

Echo nodded proudly from Melania's shoulder, and Nagini bumped his hand with her head. Thorin landed on his shoulder and pecked at his ear.

"I'm ready."

He was positioned at the bottom of the winding staircase, and Thorin and Nagini were on his right—Thorin enjoyed trying to pierce Nagini's skin with his nails (Nagini enjoyed seeing him _fail_)—while Abraxas stood next to them. Noah was next, and then Orion completed his Witnesses.

Arcturus stood next to Orion facing the stairs, and on his right stood Melania, and next to her stood Pollux—the Sanctioners.

Their guests were gathered around their group before they were ready to begin.

Echo launched from Melania's shoulder, and music began to play softly. First Lucretia appeared, then Avra, and then Maia—Eden's Witnesses. The room fell into a world of silence when he saw his soon-to-be wife.

He had no words for how ethereal Eden was.

Abyss stood next to her—far enough away that he didn't touch her dress—and Echo sat proudly on the top of his head with one floppy ear poked up straight, and the other flopped back behind her head.

A nudge from Nagini's metal-tipped tail spurred him into action, and he climbed up to the fifth step as she began to descend. He held his hand out, and when her skin touched his, the air sparked with the familiar weight of their magic mixing, and the light, oppressive brunt of the Aether's joy.

"You look—" He stared into her eyes. "Ethereal."

She smiled softly, and heat flared in his abdomen. "You know, every time I see you, I think you can't get more attractive, and then you do get more attractive. I don't think you can beat how you look tonight."

He grinned and pulled her close as he led her down the stairs. He pressed his lips to her ear as they stopped on the bottom step. "I look forward to proving you wrong."

She laughed, and he fondly stroked her cheek before he looked to make sure everything was as it should be. Lucretia stood across from Orion, Maia stood across from Noah, and Avra stood across from Abraxas.

Everyone was there except for the Officiant.

"Let us . . . _begin_," a deep voice drawled.

A middle-aged man appeared in the circle and preened like a peacock for a moment before he turned to him and Eden. Herpo winked at the two of them as murmurs began to echo.

"Thank you for coming," Tom spoke as the ancient man tugged him and Eden off of the first stair.

"Yes, yes, glad to be here. Eleonora wants you two over for dinner when the Bond settles."

Herpo Katsaros had a unique way of speaking. It was always to the point that you weren't sure if the 3,159 year old man was mocking you, sincere, or getting ready to murder you because he was eternally annoyed and you were just the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Of course, Herald."

The man's face twitched into something that was a mixture of a scowl and a smile at Eden's name for him when they were in public.

"Brat," he grumbled. "Anyway, where are the Sanctioners? Yes, yes, which one's the dad? Okay come here. Do you agree to this? Of _course_, you do. Come on, go, shoo. Mother, stay there, you agree, don't you? Ah, stay there. Just need a nonverbal agreement. Great thank you. Now, annoying uncle, oh _heavens_, you need help, anyway, you give it yes? Come on, now, don't be shy. It's yes or no. One will make them happy, one will destroy their lives and you'll have to deal with that guilt for the rest of your short existence—good, good. Thanks for agreeing. Ah, okay . . . wait. Where's the scroll? Where's the legally binding contracts? Where did I—"

The man was patting around his body frantically, as if he were actually worried, but with the small wink he had sent at him and his beloved, Tom knew it was his way of scaring their guests.

Herpo had quickly become one of his favorite people, and he would fight to the death to have him be the godfather of one of his children.

"Ah ha!" He shouted with a bright flourish of magic. In his hand he held the thin scroll that would legally bind him and Eden as husband and wife. Most people, when they got married had much thicker scrolls, but with the Bond Rite they had chosen, anything more than a formality was a waste—and even doing the legal ceremony was borderline wasteful.

Herpo wandlessly conjured a table in front of him and slammed the paper down. There was a small paragraph of writing, and then the next eight inches was filled with signature lines for the Witnesses and the bride and groom.

A Blood Quill was placed gently next to the parchment. "Eden, do you accept Tom as your husband, and accept the family name Riddle as your own?"

"I do."

"Sign your new name."

She stepped out of his arms and signed her name.

_Eden Riddle_

"Tom, do you accept Eden as your wife, and agree to support her and whatever children the two of you may have?"

"I do."

"Sign your full name."

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

"Congratulations, you mangy brats. You're married. You two kiss, Witnesses come sign, yada yada yada—blech. Why did you two chose _me_?"

Tom just grinned and winked at the man before he pulled his _wife_ into his arms and kissed her for the second time as her husband.

"I love you," he whispered. He bumped his nose against hers twice before he kissed her again.

"I love you," she whispered softly.

The cheers and celebratory Magicks fell on deaf ears as he kissed her one last time.

"That's enough! You're gonna make me puke!"

Eden flinched away from him at Herpo shouting in their ears. "Go get Bonded so you can come save me from Eleonora's whining sooner."

And with that, Herpo the Foul left the building.

** _Guest Bedroom_ **

Eden stepped into the room and immediately moved to the closet where she knew their Robes would be hidden.

The door to the room shut softly behind her, and she kicked off her shoes as she opened the closet. She pulled the snow-white Bonding Robes out and laid them gently on the bed.

She turned to see Tom leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest while he stared at her with a smug, yet fond smile on his face.

"What?" she asked softly.

He pushed himself away from the door and stalked towards her. "You're all mine now," he stated. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her flush against him. "All mine," he growled into her ear. He pressed his lips to her neck as his hands slid down and pulled her closer to him by her hips. "No one can ever take you from me now."

She smiled and kissed his neck. "All mine," she whispered. She slid her hands around his waist and down his back until her hands stroked at his lower back. He growled and began to nip at her neck. "Tom?" She slid her hands up his front and tugged at his tie.

"Yes?"

"Can you help me out of my dress?"

"Any particular spell?" he croaked.

She dropped her eyes to stare at the ground and shook her head. She dropped her eyes as her face began to burn at his intense stare. He said nothing, but she turned her back to him anyway and pulled her hair over her right shoulder—she learned long ago to keep her hair _far_ away from magic of any kind that wasn’t _meant_ for it.

His fingers fluttered over the back of her neck before his lips pressed against the tingling skin while his fingers found the extra cording tucked into the top of the dress. His lips pressed against her shoulder and then the top of her head before he took a step back and began to unlace her.

Him unlacing the corset was almost painful.

Every time his fingers would brush her skin, her unBound magic would surge and try and merge with Tom's. The two powerful, unyielding forces would clash against each other in a shower of soft, visible sparks and something would spike in her Core and flush through her veins in a burning, icy rush.

Doing what they had done, legally marrying before Bonding, was fairly dangerous if one didn't have the two events close enough together. Their magics would know that they were married and would continually try and merge with one another until they were Bonded—but they wouldn't succeed until they _did_ Bond.

Because of that, if they didn't Bond soon enough, their magic could cause a lot of damage to the both of them—physically and magically. But Tom seemed to enjoy the way that their magic swirled around one another, because despite the time limit they were under, he still took his time unlacing her.

The final bit of cord was eventually undone, but the corset was still held to her chest by her arms. She took a deep breath before she slid her arms out of the sleeves one at a time so the corset—and therefore the dress—wouldn't fall off.

"You're gorgeous," Tom whispered behind her. He stood and pressed his front against her back and pressed another kiss to the side of her neck. He put his hands on her hips under the corset. He slowly slid them forward, and she allowed the dress to peel away from her skin as his hands came to rest on her stomach.

She wrapped her arms over her chest and turned in his arms. He carefully took the dress off of her and helped her step out of it before he sent it into the closet with a flick of his fingers. She stood in front of him, only in a thin lace shift without straps that was fairly sheer and a garter that held her wand and with her face flaming red as she barely held herself together. She loved him, but she was so scared that he was going to reject her now that he _really_ saw her.

He tilted her chin up and placed a kiss on her lips.

"You are _perfect_."

She stared into his eyes and felt like she was drowning in an ocean. “Do you mean that?” she whispered.

“With every part of my entire being,” he murmured.

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips as his hands came to rest on her own hands that clutched at her upper arms. He stepped away from her and began to undress much quicker than he had been undressed her—granted, he wasn’t wearing a corset.

She stepped away from the pool of fabric at her feet and slipped on her Bonding Robe—which was really just a thin, almost sheer, cotton bathrobe. Before the belt was tied at her waist, she slipped out of the remaining articles of clothing and tied it tightly around her hips.

"Do I need to take the locket and ring off?" She asked as she began to remove the hair pins from her hair.

"No. They should be fine." His own robe was donned, and his wand placed next to hers on the bed before his fingers began to help her remove the pins.

Once they were ready, they spent a moment just holding one another. "Are you ready, little wife?"

A violent thrill shot through her blood at the name. "Of course, giant husband."

They locked their wands into a drawer and other valuables before they Warded the room and stepped onto the balcony that faced the vast grounds of Manor Black.

** _Clearing_ **

Tom held back the thick curtain of cherry blossoms and together the two stepped into the embrace of the weeping cherry tree.

The Eternal Fairy Lights still aimlessly bobbed through the air, and the vine swing still hung a few feet off of the ground, swaying softly whenever a Light bobbed into the chair portion. Magic was thick in the air, and the only difference she saw about the little haven was the large four poster bed next to the swing. It had long sheer curtains that hung loosely and some thicker brown and green curtains that could be closed but were currently tied open.

Tom's hand on the small of her back prompted her to take a step forward. "Nervous?" he asked as the pendulant branches swung closed behind them and he guided her to stand at the foot of the bed where the footboard had been removed.

"No," she started, "I'm so excited." She turned around and looped her arms around his neck. "I'm excited to be yours in every sense of the word."

His hands rested low on her hips as he smiled at her. "Good. I'd hate to have to force you to Bond with me."

She laughed and stood on her toes to kiss him, only to be stopped by the heavy scent of winter rain with the teeniest tiniest hint of sulfur.

"I hate to say, I wouldn't allow that to happen."

Eden turned and grinned at Aether as he took on a faintly human shape. "Hello, father."

The mist face formed a smile. "Hello, Eden. Hello, Tom." He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to both of their foreheads. "Do you have your vows?"

Eden was glad that he hadn't asked if they were sure about using the Aether Bonding Rite. He had asked them many times, and each time their answer had stayed the same: they wanted to be as close to each other as possible.

"Yes," they both answered.

"Give me your left hands." A thin rope of Aether wrapped around both of their hands until it was like they wore fingerless gloves. "Now, your right hands." A thick line was cut into both hands. "Hold left hands, and place your right hand on each other’s faces, and begin with your vows." They did as commanded, and the Aether's humanoid form faded into a nebula, giving them the impression of being alone.

The sensation of Tom's blood pressed against her left cheek and slowly sliding down her face and neck was uncomfortable, but it was quickly drowned out as the Aether started the Rite and her body began to tingle with power.

"Eden, over the years, many things have changed, but there are two things that have never changed. The want of power, and my need for you." His eyes began to glow softly. "Bond with me, and I will burn the world to ashes should you but ask it of me. Become mine in every sense of the word."

Her blood began to burn. "I'm yours. Wholly, irrevocably yours. I have been from the moment we met, just as you have been mine." Her eyes began to glow as well. "Bond with me, and I will burn the world to ashes should you but ask it of me. Become mine in every sense of the word."

"Your thoughts are mine to hear, your worries are mine to share, your fears are mine to soothe, your joys are mine to cherish, your happiness is mine to hold, your pains are mine to heal. Your body is mine to love, worship, and protect. Your heart is mine to nurture, grow, and guard with my life."

The burning in her blood became almost painful as she repeated his vows. They would be equals in their relationship. "Your goals are mine to support," she whispered, "your hopes and your dreams are mine to share, your desires and your fears are mine to hold close and protect. Your heart . . . is _mine_."

The air began to vibrate and glow as he repeated her added vows. Their magic wrapped tightly around them, and their hands wrapped in the Aether were cut, and their blood began to mix.

"I love you," they whispered together. The air exploded around them as their forcibly-unBound-by-the-Aether magics were finally accepted into the other person.

Purple, red, and blue nebulas were around the clearing and depicted various galaxies and universes. The Eternal Fairy Lights looked like stars as the nebulas swirled violently around the clearing. Their magics fully merged, and a burst of magic that had the pendulant branches of the tree standing straight up centered around them.

(they were unaware of the cheering going on at the Manor as their joined magics swirled aggressively in the air)

The branches fell, but the two only had eyes for each other as the Aether impatiently nudged them together. Tom's hand curled to the back of her neck and he pulled her close and pressed a slow, deep kiss to her lips. Her hand moved to his chest as she clutched at the robe to pull him closer to her.

_Disrobe_.

The command was heard clearly by the both of them, but it was quiet enough to ignore and take their time—if they wanted. The sound of Tom’s Robe hitting the ground was drowned by the blood that rushed in her head when her own Robe was untied and removed from her body.

The summer air was warm against her skin as Tom lifted her into his arms and laid her down on the center of the bed as if she were a fragile glass figurine. He stared at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He pressed his lips to hers

Their bleeding hands were joined above her head.

The world outside of the bed became nothing but the Aether as the Rite neared completion.

They became one.

* * *

** _Sunday, July 11, 1948_ **

** _ Clearing_ **

Eden awoke to fingers running up and down her bare back.

The touch tingled more than it ever had before, and fiery love brushed over her skin from the Bond.

She curled further into her husband's hold and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Good morning," she murmured into his skin.

His hands slid across her body, and she gasped softly at the feel of his callouses against her soft skin. "Good morning, wife."

His hands slid up and down her back so one rested on her left hip and the other curled around her neck. He gently tilted her head back and sucked softly at the skin below her ear before he rolled on top of her. He kissed down her neck and to her chest and stopped at the scar that rested on top of her heart. He kissed it softly and ran his tongue along the sensitive skin.

"Tom," she gasped. She arched into his hold as he kissed the scar once more. He trailed his lips back up her chest and to her ear.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

She tilted her head up and pressed a kiss against his jaw, and fire flushed brightly through her veins before it settled low into her stomach.

He growled and captured her lips into a fast, deep, and near painful kiss as the soft early morning light brushed against their skin and the warm summer breeze ruffled their hair and the curtains around them.

When they left the bed a few hours later, it was only to move to the bed at Slytherin Castle in the master suite.

It was a while before they were seen again.

* * *

** _Saturday, July 24, 1948_ **

** _ Slytherin Castle_ **

"**I do not care if the Bond has not yet settled, I am going to check on my Human**."

Eden giggled and buried her face in Tom's chest at Abyss' growl.

"**But—what if we _see_ something**?" Echo demanded softly.

"**That is the point Echo. We are here to see our Human**," Abyss sniffed.

Tom pinched her back to try and calm her giggles—they were only made worse when she felt his body shuttering with his own repressed laughter.

"**For a Creature who so enjoys tearing innocent beings to pieces just to see how long you can make them suffer, you yourself are quite innocent**," Nagini commented.

(Eden still shivered whenever she remembered receiving the ability to speak the War Language from the Snake)

"**What do you mean**?"

Thorin landed on Eden's shoulder. "**So, do you want to tell him, or shall _I_ be the one to tell him**?"

Tom pressed a finger to his lips before he shooed the Raven away.

_Good morning_, he spoke to her mind.

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest. _Good morning_.

He tilted her head up and kissed her softly. While the typical fire and desire coursed through her veins, it wasn't as overwhelming as it had been since they had married. She no longer felt the burning need to mark Tom as her own until she couldn't see straight.

He pulled away and stroked her hair. "I love you," he whispered softly.

She grinned, and his eyes darkened. "I love you," she repeated. Fire ate at her bones and she flushed a deep red when he pulled her flush against him.

"**Eden**!"

The bed shook as a still-shrunken Abyss jumped up onto the bed and fought his way between her and Tom. He licked her face, and she laughed at Tom's frustration and the names he currently spit at Abyss over the Bond.

"Good morning, Abyss," she giggled. She scratched under his chin and pushed magic into him. He purred and kicked Tom away from her before he climbed on top of her.

"**I miss you. I will no longer obey the parental pests orders, and I shall stay with you two now. I can be my true size here, correct**?"

"Yes, Abyss, you can be your full size here."

Echo landed on Eden's shoulder, and she scratched the Bat's head and fed her some magic as well. "**Do I have to be my full size**?" she whined.

"Only if you want to."

Thorin landed on Tom's chest while Nagini draped herself over the two of them and rested her head on his chest. Her husband fed his familiars some magic while she did the same.

He looked at her, and she giggled at his disgruntled expression. "New rule," he started, "only Eden and I are allowed in the bed."

The familiars all exchanged a look before all Hell broke loose.

* * *

** _Friday, August 5, 1949_ **

** _ Slytherin Castle_ **

Eden wiped her mouth and rested her aching body against the cool tile floor.

The sharp contrast between her flushed skin and the black marble had her tense muscles somewhat relaxing. Through the blood throbbing in her head, there was the faint sound of flapping wings before Echo’s small body landed on her shoulder. “**Again**?” she asked softly. Eden just groaned and curled into a ball. “**Should I get Tom**?”

She sat up and groaned at the spinning in her head. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “It’s just a stomach bug. You know how he worries. He needs to focus on getting the Magical Orphanage approved.”

Echo hummed doubtfully. “**You’ve been sick for two days**.”

Eden sighed. “Some stomach bugs can take a week to get better from.”

The Bat hummed again, and if she had said something in response, Eden didn’t hear it over another bout of puking.

* * *

** _Sunday, August 7, 1949_ **

** _ Slytherin Castle_ **

Tom awoke to Eden jerking out of his arms.

He sat up and stared after his wife as she ran across the room and to the bathroom. He swiped the hair out of his eyes and rubbed them as his magic tied his shoulder-length hair back into a high ponytail.

The sounds of painful vomiting reached his ears, and it took only a moment for the information to connect with the fact that it was his _wife_ making those horrific sounds before he leapt out of bed. He slipped on the smooth black marble and knelt next to Eden. He pulled her hair back and rubbed her back as she retched over and over.

Once she had finished, he pulled her into his arms and began to rub her stomach. “Are you alright?” She weakly nodded her head before she tucked her face into his neck. “I’m going to call Noah,” he said a moment later, when she jerked before she relaxed, almost as if she were going to puke, but decided not to.

She shook her head and spoke over his protests. “I think it’s just food poisoning or something. I should be better in a couple days.”

“**That’s what you have been saying since Wednesday**,” Echo commented as she landed on the toilet seat. She shuffled around for a moment before she wrapped her wings around herself and stared at Eden with unblinking red eyes.

“Traitor,” his wife mumbled.

“**You are my Human. It is my job to make sure you are healthy**.”

“Wait—wait. You’ve been sick for _four_ days and you haven’t told me?” he demanded in a low hiss. A certain pain that he didn’t know how to describe other than _ache_ began to throb in his chest and along his veins at the realization that she hadn’t told him she was sick. Rage quickly followed the pain for the exact same reason.

But then it stopped for a moment before it started again, this time aimed at _himself_.

He was furious with himself because _he_ hadn’t noticed that she was sick. He had allowed himself to become so busy that his wife had fallen to the background—something he had promised himself would never happen.

Perhaps it was time that he took a break from the Wizengamot and focused on his wife. While the orphanage was important—while changing the _world_ was important—she was his entire _reality_.

He needed to keep a closer eye on her until she turned 21 and made her own Horcrux.

(they had discovered that the scar on her chest was a Horcrux, but they didn’t know if it was a Horcrux for her or for him, so he had begged and pleaded with her until she agreed to do it with the demand that someone named Fenrir Greyback be the person she kill)

“I didn’t want to distract you,” she murmured and successfully pulled him from his thoughts.

“Eden, you’re more important.”

“But—”

“No. You are _far_ more important, Eden.” He pushed his feelings at her across the Bond, and she slumped against him in defeat.

“Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was feeling unwell,” she said almost childishly.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her head and pulled her onto his lap. “You’re forgiven.”

“And Tom?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t feel bad about not noticing I was sick,” she murmured softly. Her feelings of love and adoration stroked at his feelings of self-loathing, and they began to fade. “It’s really only in the mornings when I’m throwing up or whenever I smell something particularly strong. It wasn’t like I _tried_ to actively hide it from you.” He sighed and kissed her head again, and pulled her closer, as if that would make her better. “Besides, we both know how bad I am at _actually_ hiding things from you.”

He hummed and kissed her neck, and she sighed as she tilted her head to the side. “You do have a point, my beloved.” She jerked out of his arms and hunched over the toilet bowl once more as her stomach heaved. “I’m calling Noah.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” she gagged out, just before she puked.

“Yes.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Tom! Let the poor man sleep and call him in the morning!”

She did have a point. But, when she continued to gag, with only small amounts of bile left to come out, and she made increasingly painful sounds, he ignored her wishes and summoned his best friend.

“Someone better be dying,” Noah griped as he stomped into the room three minutes later, dressed in sleep clothes, hair ruffled, and face unshaved.

“Eden’s been sick for four days,” Tom informed the healer as he finally succeeded in wrestling her from her stranglehold on the toilet and into his arms.

Noah snorted. “And you’re just _now_ calling me? Are you feeling alright? Are you sure it’s not _you_ I should be examining?”

Tom glared, and it was only Eden snuggling further into his arms that kept him from hexing the healer. “I just found out,” he spat out through gritted teeth. “Now, tell me what’s wrong with my wife.”

Noah sighed and crouched in front of them and began to cast spells along her body. “What are your symptoms?”

“Nausea in the mornings when I wake up, or when I smell something particularly strong. That’s about it, actually. I think it’s just _food poisoning_.”

Noah hummed before he flicked his wand and a blue light hovered over Eden’s lower abdomen. “Congratulations,” the man said through a yawn, “you’re pregnant.”

Tom’s stomach dropped to the center of the earth as shock, and then excitement blew through his blood. “What?” he whispered.

“With a boy. You’re about five weeks along. Have you been tired at all?”

“A little, yeah. But I also haven’t been sleeping too well for the last few weeks, so I didn’t think too much of it.”

Tom sighed and held her closer as guilt hit him hard in the chest. He had proposed the idea of a magical orphanage at the Wizengamot a year prior, but it hadn’t been taken seriously until four months ago.

In the beginning it was only a sleepless night once or twice a month, but the last month had resulted in many sleepless nights and even more late nights that often resulted in him going to bed _long_ after Eden had, and waking up with her, only to bury himself in work the moment after he kissed her good morning. He knew she struggled sleeping without him, he just hadn’t thought that she’d still struggle with him being in the same room and his magic wrapped securely around her.

He had really screwed up, hadn’t he?

Irritation spiked through the Bond and pulled him out of his self-deprecating thoughts. “If you keep thinking like that and ruining this moment for me, I’m going to go sleep with Abyss and Echo in his den. _Without_ you.”

His mouth flapped and Noah snorted softly before he stood. “I’ll get you some prenatal potions that will help your Core adjust to being pregnant.” He flicked his wand once more, and he frowned for a moment as the blue ball appeared once more.

“What is it?” Eden asked nervously.

“Nothing,” he said distractedly. “I’m not as knowledgeable when it comes to pregnancy as other areas of healing, but I can’t be sure if you’re pregnant with twins or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“This spell just shows the gender if you’re pregnant. Gray for negative; pink for girl; blue for boy; purple for twins if it’s a boy and girl. If you’re having identical or fraternal twins that are the same gender, this spell doesn’t show that. There are spells that show twins at this stage, but I don’t know them. The only one that I know can’t be cast before the tenth week because of the amount of Strain it puts on the growing fetus’ Cores.”

“So, what you’re saying is that we might be having twins?”

“No. What I’m saying is that you will most _likely_ have twins,” he corrected. “I’m getting two magical signatures in this scan, which is _why_ I’m going to recommend that if you want to know sooner than ten weeks, you go to a prenatal healer.”

His wife curled further into his arms. “I have a question.”

“I have an answer.”

“Will there be an anti-nausea potion?” he asked as he ran a hand over Eden’s firm stomach.

Before Noah could answer his question, Eden leaned forward and gagged before a small line of bile landed on Noah’s shoes.

“Even if you didn’t want one before, you’re getting one now,” the pink-eyed man sniffed as he stared at his shoes with a wrinkled nose before he cleaned the mess with a flick of his wand.

* * *

** _Monday, August 8, 1949_ **

** _ Slytherin Castle_ **

Eden glared menacingly at the fireplace and resisted the urge to check the time.

Again.

She had forced Tom to go to the Wizengamot for a meeting, and now that she had made her decision—two hours after he had left—she was _regretting it completely_. Sure, he hadn’t missed a meeting since becoming Lord Emrys-Slytherin-Peverell-Gaunt. But they _just_ found out she was _pregnant_.

He could have missed one.

The floo lit up fifteen minutes later, and her husband stepped out of it, and he paused for a moment and stared at her, his face decidedly starstruck.

“Eden—”

“I want to go to the prenatal healer.” He just stared at her, and she placed her hands on her flat stomach. “To see if . . . twins” she finished lamely. When he just continued to stare, she looked at the ground and wrapped her arms around her to hold herself together.

If he didn’t want this—it would break her.

But—

“If you don’t want—” she broke off as her throat closed and tears welled in her eyes.

His hands curled around her neck and tilted her face towards him. “You’re amazing, Eden,” he murmured. He placed a hand on her flat stomach, _right_ where she could feel a very faint foreign entity next to her Core when she concentrated really hard—which, she admitted, she had been doing all day.

The tears fell. “Then why aren’t you saying anything?”

He kissed away her tears and held her hips in his hands as he pressed his forehead against hers. He began to rub soothing circles on her hips as he pulled her closer. “Because it still feels like a dream to me, my love.”

She frowned. “We’ve been trying for six months.”

He laughed, his minty breath fanned across her face and soothed something raging in her soul and kissed her frown away. He took her hand in his before he led her to the large green sectional sofa with silver tassels, pillows, and lace—an obnoxiously hideous gift from Lucretia and Ignatius that she desperately wanted to get rid of but couldn’t. He sat her down on it before he knelt in front of her and held her hands in his once more.

He looked into her eyes as he pressed a kiss to the tips of each finger, each palm, and her inner wrists. “I know,” he murmured. “For some reason though, it still feels like a dream come true. You’re pregnant with _my_ child. Potentially my _children_.” He smiled against her fingers, and his eyes _shined_. “I mentioned that you were pregnant at the meeting today to Abraxas after Noah brought it up, and it was overheard, and the orphanage was finally approved.”

Eden threw her arms around his neck and pressed a firm kiss against his lips. “Congratulations, my love,” she whispered. She wondered in some distant part of her brain if she should be insulted that he used her pregnancy to get the orphanage approved, but she couldn’t find any trace of ill feeling in her entire being.

She kissed him again and ran her fingers through his hair. “About finding out if we’re having twins . . .” she trailed off.

He ran his fingers along her cheeks and through her hair before he rested a hand on her stomach and one on the back of her neck as he pressed his forehead to hers once more.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

* * *

** _Thursday, December 21, 1949_ **

** _ Black Manor_ **

"Can I help you?"

Tom looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye and stifled a laugh. They were at the annual Black Yule Dinner—always held the day before Yule—and his lovely wife was wreaking havoc—she had been all evening and it was _bloody fantastic_.

She shifted slightly, and her hand brushed across his left thigh before she lightly pinched the outer flesh before Orion yelped. "Eden!"

"Yes?"

"What was that for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You kicked me!"

His wife squeezed his hand after she shifted once more, and he sipped his elf wine. "I don't know what you're talking about." She squeezed his hand again and nudged his foot with hers and took a small bite of steak before she leaned back with a deep breath and a wince.

She had confided in him a few weeks prior that the twins were constantly moving and while it was wonderful to feel them, it was uncomfortable. He had suggested that she touch him whenever they moved in a way that was uncomfortable, and she had taken to that idea with gusto.

(he would admit only in the privacy in his mind that his sons were _far_ more active than he had ever imagined them being)

It seemed her family was now suffering at his idea, as his sons always got more active around the times she ate.

"I did no such thing."

"You just did it again!"

Eden's hand tightened around his thigh as she paled for a moment before she glared down at her stomach. "One meal. All I ask for is one meal where you don't throw a fit."

Melania laughed. "I remember being pregnant with Orion. I couldn't eat anything that wasn't sweet."

"I can't seem to be able to eat _anything_. I'm nauseous all of the time, and I swear the two of them are trying to play Catch-the-Snitch in my stomach using my vital organs as the snitch." She groaned and grabbed his hand. "Do you have that potion?"

He stroked her hand before he waved his own and handed it to her. "Here, my love "

She grabbed the potion out of his hand, and he laughed as she greedily drank it, and the pale tinge her skin had taken on faded. He stroked her cheek fondly, and she leaned into his touch.

"I'm so sorry," Arcturus started, "but did you say _two_?"

His wife tensed next to him before she nodded. "We were going to wait until after dessert to tell you, but yes. We're having twins."

Chaos.

Complete and utter chaos.

* * *

** _Tuesday, February 14, 1950_ **

** _ Slytherin Castle_ **

Eden looked up from her book and smiled widely at Orion as he walked in.

“Wow,” he started with a whistle, “you look like you’re about to pop.”

“I _feel_ like I’m about to pop,” she moaned as she rubbed her bulging stomach. “I am too small to carry twins.” She held her hands out to him. “Help me stand. I want to go for a walk but can’t get up on my own.”

Her brother laughed before he moved forward and lifted her gently off of the couch. “Where to, my Lady?” he asked pompously with an equally pompous bow.

She whacked his arm. “The gardens.

As the two walked, they spoke about random things until they got outside, and the twins decided to pick up a game of kick-as-many-vital-organs-as-possible. She groaned and pressed a hand to her stomach and leaned against Orion. “How much longer until they’re due?”

“Six more days,” she said with a sigh, “but there’s a high chance that I’ll go into labor before then. Leif and I were nearly three weeks early.”

Orion nodded, and once the twins settled down, the two continued on their way, even though there was still an extreme discomfort in her side and back. “Can I ask you a question about something?”

“Of course.”

A privacy ward fell around them, and she knew it was something about the future. Something in her stomach began to twist. “Ri?” she asked softly when he still hadn’t said something.

She turned to look at him—_really_ look at him.

He was pale, his eyes gaunt, his hair tangled and oily. His clothes were rumpled, and his magic was tired and stressed.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“I know, it’s just—”

“Just what?”

“What year was my son born? Your godfather.”

The tight feeling in her stomach grew worse, but she ignored it. “Sirius was born in 1959, why?” She gasped as the tight feeling became _pain_, and she grabbed onto Orion and breathed for a moment.

“Are you alright?” he demanded. She held up a hand and nodded her head.

“Yeah. Cramp,” she said when it was over. “I’ve been having them all day. It’s fine. Why do you ask what year Sirius was born?”

“Are you _sure_ it was 1959?”

There was a dull, yet sharp pain that began in her lower back that was easily ignored. “I’m positive.”

“Did he have any older siblings?” he asked in despair.

He already knew the answer.

“No. Only younger. Orion, what’s going on?”

“Walpurga’s pregnant. We found out three days ago.”

“What?” Her gasped question was followed by a popping sensation in her abdomen followed by a rush of liquid down her legs.

“Eden? Eden what just happened? Are you okay? Are you _dying_?”

She looked to her brother just as another cramp hit her stomach. Maybe the cramps she had been feeling all day _weren’t_ just mere cramps. “Eden! Eden! Eden what do I do!” She barely heard him over the blood rushing in her head as he held her up when she stumbled under the pain.

“Get. Tom.”

** _Ministry of Magic_ **

Yaxley paused in monotonous speaking as the heavy doors to the room slammed open. Tom turned elegantly in his seat along with other members of the Wizengamot to find a pale-faced Orion Black panting in the doorway.

“Orion? What is the meaning of this?” Arcturus demanded as he stood from his place next to Tom.

“It’s—it’s—I just came from—” Two Aurors ran in behind him and grabbed each arm. They were stopped from pulling him away by a hand from Lord Black.

Tom was pleased to see that the Aurors were fairly beat up, bleeding, and leaked Dark Magic—as opposed to their natural Light types—while Orion was just winded.

“Spit it out, boy!” Arcturus hissed.

“It’s Eden!” The room fell silent as Tom’s heart stopped.

His wife.

His sons.

Were they alright?

What had happened?

He stepped towards Orion and grabbed his shoulders in his hands. “What happened? Is she okay? The babies?”

“She’s gone into labor.”

The room broke out into murmurs.

“Lord Emrys-Peverell-Slytherin-Gaunt, you are dismissed,” Lord Greengrass, the Head Mugwump, spoke. “Orion Black, you are Forgiven of trespassing into the Wizengamot uninvited.”

Tom turned and inclined his head to Greengrass. “Thank you, Lord Greengrass.”

He turned and stalked out of the room, his robes floating in the air around him. As he walked out of the room, he smirked when he heard his father-in-law insist that they finish business up quickly so he could be there for the birth of his first two grandchildren.

** _St. Mungo’s_ **

Eden groaned low in her throat and crossed her ankles, tangled her toes together—as much as she could—and gripped the bedsheets as another contraction hit her. The control she had on her magic slipped just a bit more, and there was the faint echo of cracking in the distance before there was screaming when the Containment Orb shattered.

“I told you we’d need the largest size until her husband got here,” Noah said smugly from where he sat next to her.

He had been on a 30-hour shift in the ER when Orion had brought her in, screaming like Hell was chasing them. He had immediately taken them to a private birthing room, left to grab a Summoning Orb and told the nurses to call him if they needed him before Tom got there since he had been her main caregiver during the pregnancy.

_Shut up_, Eden wanted to say, but couldn’t due to the sheer magnitude of the pain. Her magic whipped around the room for a few moments before a Containment Orb—this one the largest size—was brought in and her magic turned its wrath towards it. She pushed herself up so her lower back and thighs weren’t on the bed.

Noah laughed. “You know that’s just going to hurt your neck, right?”

_Noah Smith could go burn in Hell_. She snarled weakly at him and earned a laugh in response to her efforts of conveying her displeasure.

He placed a hand on her own, and she shocked him. “Is this the thanks I get for helping you in your time of need?” he demanded in a fake hurt voice.

She lowered herself back to the bed. “Yes,” she grunted, and then the contraction finally faded, and she fully relaxed. “Be grateful I’m not Cursing you,” she said after a minute of bliss.

“Oh, _thank you_, most kind and gracious _demon_.”

Eden laughed and shook her head. “I wonder where Tom is,” she said absently as she ran her hand over her stomach.

Her sons were going to be there soon. Soon, she was going to be able to hold them in her arms, and see their faces, and kiss their cheeks, and love them so much more than she already did.

“He was at the Wizengamot. It’ll take a while for Orion to get in.”

Eden nodded and played with the blanket under her fingers. “What if he doesn’t make it in time?”

Noah placed his hand on top of her own and squeezed. She turned her hand over and squeezed it back. “Don’t think like that. Tom will be here. Do you want something to drink?”

She shook her head as another contraction hit her. She gasped and tilted her head back and tried to desperately hold onto her magic as her body rebelled against her.

“Try and breathe, Eden,” Noah soothed calmingly from beside her. She took a stuttering breath and let it out with a soft whimper. “Good job. Can you do it again?” She shook her head and curled her toes. “Come on, just one more. You need to breathe, or you could hurt the twins, Eden.”

She took a deep, gasping breath and let it out with a heavy sob. Noah’s magic wrapped around her in a warm hug, but it did nothing to stop the shattering of the Containment Orb.

“Healer Smith—” A panicked medi-witch started.

“Get _two_ this time!” he snarled. His hand clasped her own, and she held onto it tightly as the pain seemed to almost expand simultaneously outwards and inwards in her abdomen.

She was going to die.

The contraction faded, and when she opened her eyes, her lashes sticking together from the tears that had fallen, Noah smiled softly at her and wiped her sweat covered brow with a cool, damp cloth. “It’s going to be fine,” he murmured.

“How long?”

“It was 47 seconds long—” _lying bastard_ “—and 10 minutes and 12 seconds from the last one.”

“Please tell me that means I’m almost done,” she begged.

He looked at her with understanding and held her hand as two more Containment Orbs were wheeled in and placed in the shards of the other two shattered Orbs. “I can’t tell you that. You’ll have to wait for the birthing healer to check you over.”

A few minutes later, a woman in white robes—which shocked Eden, as she hadn’t thought that women would have been allowed to be a healer in this time, but it made sense if she was the birthing healer—stepped into the room. She paused at the sight of the Containment Orbs and hesitantly made her way to the end of the bed. She flicked her wand and Eden squirmed at the sensation of spells slipping inside of her, but the healer looked pleased at the information.

“It seems to be coming along nicely, you’re four centimeters dilated.” Eden nodded and the room was bathed in an uncomfortable silence. “Healer Smith, I hate to be the one to ask,” the woman started, “but . . . will her husband be able to contain her magic effectively, or will we need to sedate her and terminate the pregnancy?”

Even though in the rational part of Eden’s mind, she knew that when the woman used the word ‘terminate’ it wasn’t in the sense of _murdering her unborn children_—the two baby boys who were desperately trying to find a way out of her body—it was just used as another word for _delivering_ her children.

However, the _ir_rational part of her mind, currently the _largest_ part of her mind immediately went to the fact that the _bitch_ wanted her children _dead_,

She pushed herself up to her elbows and glared at the woman. “That’s not an option.”

“I apologize, Lady Emrys,” she started, a slight tremor in her voice, “but if your husband is unable to control your magic, we _will_ take matters into our own hands and sedate you.”

Eden’s eyes narrowed and her raging magic in the air stilled for a moment. The medies exchanged looks with each other and as one entity took a step closer to the door, while Noah tried to place a placating hand on her shoulder. The foolish woman was oblivious to what was about to occur as she raised her chin in defiance.

The shards of the broken Containment Orbs lifted off of the ground and surrounded the woman, touching her skin but not piercing it. The woman paled as material that was supposed to be impossible to manipulate with magic stroked along her body.

“Try it,” Eden whispered.

“Eden—”

“I _dare_ you.”

No one moved until finally, “Get two more Containment Orbs and find out where in _Merlin’s_ name her husband is.” The four medies ran out of the room as fast as they could.

The woman pulled one of her hands out of her coat, and in it was a vial with a light blue liquid. Before Eden, Noah, or the healer could do anything, Abyss and Echo were in the room.

Abyss stood to her left while Echo flapped her wings and landed on Eden’s belly. Sufficiently distracted by her Hell Bat, the shards around the woman fell to the ground.

“**You are close to giving birth**,” the Bat commented lightly as she nuzzled into Eden’s chest.

She laughed softly and pet the Bat on the head with a finger. “Yes.”

“**Will you be naming one after me**?”

Any answer that she could have given was cut off by Abyss snarling violently. “Abyss?”

“**I am preventing her from sedating you**,” he commented simply with a murderous lilt.

The woman still held the vial in her hand, although it threatened to drop with how violently her hand shook. “It’s a potion for the pain,” she said in a breathy voice that trembled. “We give it to all laboring women who want it. It takes away a majority of the pain, but not all of it, unfortunately.”

Eden looked to Noah and he sighed before he reached for the potion, opened it, and sniffed it “It’s just a pain relief potion, Eden.”

“**I do not trust it**,” Abyss snarled as he snuffled Eden’s hand. She scratched his head, around his horn, and he groaned softly and leaned into her touch. “**_Definitely_ do not trust it**.”

She looked to Noah and opened her mouth to ask him what he thought about taking the potion, but all that managed to escape was a low moan as a contraction, the strongest one yet, hit her.

She grabbed a handful of Abyss’ fur—completely unaware that she held his eyelid in her grasp—and tried to hold her magic deep within her body. Her right hand—which gripped the edge of the bed—was jostled, and she snarled at whoever _dared_ to touch her while she was in agony, but when Echo’s floppy little ear landed on the top of her hand while her body slid between her palm and the bed, she calmed just a bit. Her magic, while still difficult to control, eased just a bit at her familiars’ proximity.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the tears that dripped into her hairline as she bit her lip and prayed that Tom would get there soon to be able to hold onto her magic for her so the pain would lessen.

If he didn’t get there soon, there would be _Hell_ to pay.

** _St. Mungo’s Hallway_ **

Tom paused at the end of the hallway, Orion next to him, and stared, mildly concerned, at the gaggle of medi-witches and medi-wizards that stood outside of a birthing room. All held vials with dark red liquid in trembling hands.

He sent out wisps of his magic towards the potions and nearly killed every single man and woman in that area when he recognized the Potion of Sedation.

It was a Dark potion, and the person who had created it was a sadistic and curious—a very dangerous combination he had discovered—son of a bitch who wanted to know if Curses could be put into a more _tangible_ form.

The Curse of Sedation was dangerous on its own—knocking the target out until the Counter was cast—with the Counter working only two out of five times. The Potion of Sedation, however, was _far_ more deadly. While it worked the same way as the Curse, the antidote that was created for it only worked one out of eight times. While it could be administered multiple times, due to many of the ingredients, the antidote would become a poison after the fourth administration and kill the Sedated witch or wizard. If the antidote worked before the fifth administration, it had severe, lifelong effects that most people often chose death rather than deal with them.

“Tom,” Orion murmured from his side.

Right.

It had barely been five minutes since Orion had claimed him from the Wizengamot, and he seemed to hyper focus on every little thing that could even _potentially_ be connected with his wife or unborn sons.

He walked towards the group, and when they looked at him, they all visibly sagged as relief crossed their faces. Before he could even begin to question _why_ they would be relieved with his presence—as many people typically cowered in front of him—there was a distinct sound of shattering glass, and then a wave of familiar Pure Dark Magic.

He immediately pushed his way into the room and stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

Abyss was half on the bed, a large grin on his fleshy face with his right eye in Eden’s white-knuckled grasp. Echo was held to Eden’s chest, her shrunken body was being squeezed like one of the toys Androtheny had bought for the twins. Her eyes, while bulging, were lit in joy and had—what he figured was a Batty equivalent—a smile on her own face.

Noah sat next to his wife, one hand in his hair, the other rubbing at the back of his neck. Two timers counted above Eden’s head and a female healer stood white-faced at the foot of the bed with shards of a Containment Orb at her feet.

Six podiums were to his left, only four of them occupied by Containment Orbs—only three of them were working though. On the sixth podium, the one closest to him, was a cracked sphere with blue and green sparks lighting through its newly glittering starry surface. He pressed his hand to the broken sphere and it slowly began to mend itself.

It wouldn’t be able to be used as a Containment Orb again, but it would make a nice center piece on his coffee table with all of the magic it’s absorbed over its life.

Another wave of Eden’s magic hit him, and he was brought out of his shock and unBound his magic completely and wrapped it around his wife and her fiercely thrashing magic. He easily stepped through the crushing waves of her pain and ignored the healer’s grateful look that she sent him.

There were many theories, mainly Light oriented, that suggested the reason as to why the father needed to be there to stabilize the mother’s magic while giving birth was because her magic would Vanish the child. However, when the situation was looked at from a Dark point of view, with the opinion that one’s magic is a parasite that protects the host, it wouldn’t make sense that the mother’s magic would hurt someone so closely entwined with itself—because the mother’s magic would see the child as one in the same until their own Core was developed enough to either be declared as a witch, wizard, or a squib.

The _true_ reason as to why the father needed to stabilize the mother’s magic wasn’t for the baby’s sake, the healers’ or well-wishers’ sakes, or the environment’s sake—in Eden’s case—but it was for the _mother’s_ sake.

While the mother’s magic _could_ harm the child, it was far more likely that the mother’s magic would turn itself against its host in order to _protect_ the baby. Magical children were treasured, not only by humans and magical creatures alike, but by Magic _herself_, so much so, that many witches would lose the ability to get pregnant again because their magic wasn’t properly restrained by the father—a frighteningly large number he _fully_ intended to drop with mandatory classes either in Hogwarts or for expecting parents.

It was often that when a witch gave birth without the father present—wizard or muggle—she died shortly after naming the child, her Core and body too damaged to carry on living—even _with_ proper medical help.

As Tom got closer to his wife, her grip began to relax on her familiars. “Are you two alright?” he asked them softly.

“**I’m fine**,” Echo chirped.

“**As am I**,” Abyss hummed before he gently licked Eden’s arm.

His heart warmed as he sat on the bed next to her and placed a hand on her cheek. She nuzzled into his hold just as the contraction seemed to end.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he murmured.

She smiled at him, and forgiveness filled him. “I want Noah delivering the twins.”

“I can’t—” the man started.

Tom held up a hand as the healer who had been standing at the end of the bed ran out of the room as fast as she could. Abyss licked his lips. “**It has been a while since I have had a chase. It appears that this is going to be a good one**.”

When neither Eden nor Echo stopped him from making his plans of chasing the healer down and maiming her, he knew something had happened. He felt for the Bond, and under all of the churning emotions was the sharp sensation of fear.

“Love?” he prompted gently. He stroked her cheek and she leaned into his touch.

“She threatened to sedate me and terminate the pregnancy.” Eden pushed herself into sitting—which he of course helped her with—and began to play with his fingers which she pulled onto her stomach. He thought she was going to say more on the matter, but instead tears fell onto his hand. He immediately gathered her into his arms and began to rock her side to side, gently shushing her whenever her tears began to break his heart more than they usually did.

He looked to Noah. “Please.”

He sighed. “I’ll go talk to my superiors, but I’m not too sure they’ll let me.”

“You don’t have to be in here the entire time,” Tom snapped. “You just have to deliver my children. You’re the only man I trust enough to do this, Noah. Please. One of them is your Godson.”

His pink eyes widened as his red mouth fell open into a nice little ‘O’. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said slightly starstruck. They had been talking about making either him or Abraxas the godfather of the youngest of the twins, but they hadn’t decided until a week prior and had decided to not tell them until after they were born.

“Thank you,” Tom murmured.

Noah nodded and stood, a look of pure determination on his face—one that Tom recognized to mean Dark Magic was most likely going to be used to get his way. “Her contractions are getting closer together at a rapid pace. The last one was 8 minutes and 12 seconds from the prior one. Try and keep track of them with those timers.”

“I will.”

Noah placed a hand on his shoulder, and a kiss to his wife’s head before he left, and Tom returned his full attention to his wife as a terrified medi-witch and medi-wizard stepped into the room and quietly made their way to the side of the room opposite that of the Containment Orbs.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he soothed, “everything will be fine.”

He ran a hand down her back before he tilted her head back and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you,” she whispered. Her face scrunched and she clamped down on his shirt as she curled into him. _Hate you_, she spoke to him over the Bond. _I hate you so much, you’re the one carrying the next child, I swear to Merlin Tom. Oh, I’m going to find a way to make you experience this for yourself, I swear to Circe, Morgana, Mordred, Merlin, everyone. You’re going to suffer so much, Tom. You unnecessary wet sock._

He laughed and pulled her closer to him as Orion stepped hesitantly into the room. Tom tilted his head and the man made his way over and to the chair that Noah had just vacated.

Abyss jumped up on the bed behind her and placed his head on her shoulder—one of his horns was dangerously close to poking one of Tom’s eyes out—and the tight grip that Eden had on him loosened minutely.

He took a deep breath and his magic curled into every part of the room, permeating every crack, crevice, pore, and every bit of air until it almost glittered with it. “Love, stop holding onto your magic. You’re just making the pain worse. I’m more than capable of handling the entirety of your magic.”

He was afraid for a moment that she was going to ignore him, and he would have to force her to let go of her magic, but with a gentle ebbing sensation, the sharp, jagged edges of her magic receded with a faint ebbing sensation. Her magic continued to recede until it was almost completely Bound inside of her once more, and then a silent pop, before a tidal wave of crushing magic hit him, thrashing, angry, and _terrified_.

The love he felt for her grew tenfold for the strength she showed despite how scared she was.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and his magic around her own just as easily, and the tense line her back had made relaxed, and the high-pitched whistling and deep humming he hadn’t even noticed fell into silence that almost had him feeling empty.

When she relaxed, the timer above her bed—the second one—showed 52 seconds, while the first one said 7 minutes and 5 seconds.

“They’re easier lying down,” she said after a moment of breathing.

“Alright.”

He helped her lie down, threatening Abyss with a look that promised absolute _death_, and gently stroked her hair out of her face. “Do you want anything?”

“Water.”

* * *

** _Wednesday, February 15, 1950_ **

** _ St. Mungo’s_ **

The next nine hours were spent in a similar fashion to that of the first two.

Eden’s contractions, while they had rapidly been getting closer together in the beginning, slowed down drastically after they hit five minutes apart. After the fiasco with the healer whose name she _still_ didn’t know, she refused to take _any_ sort of potion from anyone other than Noah—who had been given the go ahead to deliver the twins—who had only been able to check on her twice in that time period due to how busy the ER was. While the pain potions only really took the worst of the edge off and wore off between each visit, she still preferred them then going all natural.

Along with the painful contractions, there had been a steady stream of people coming to visit them in hopes that the twins had already been born—mainly members from the Wizengamot, family, and friends.

Multi baby magical births already took a longer time than a single baby magical birth due to the increase of _humans_ being pushed out of the body, but being in labor for longer than fifteen hours for _any_ type of birth began to be dangerous not only for the mother and children, but for the father as well due to Magical Strain—in her original time, at the eighteen hour mark they cut the mother open and deliver the baby that way, but in this time, that method hadn’t been discovered by witches and wizards yet.

To be honest though, Eden wasn’t too worried with all of the training that she and Tom did on the weekends. They constantly pushed themselves until they had hit Magical Strain, and then they did some more before they’d call it a day.

However, if she was in labor for any longer, she might just end up killing someone to get the pain to stop, she thought as another contraction hit her just a minute after the last one.

She vaguely felt a puppy-sized Abyss curl into her neck with Echo as Tom brushed her hair back from her sweat covered forehead and kiss her skin. His breath brushed across her forehead, cool against the flushed pain, but she couldn’t understand a single word he said.

After an eternity, the contraction finally ended, and she looked at him and began to cry. “No more, Tom. No more.”

“I know,” he said with a shaky smile, his eyes shining. “You’re almost done. Our sons are almost here.” He kissed her, and she weakly kissed him back. He was her husband, her best friend. He knew best. He wouldn’t let her suffer for longer than she would need to.

Arcturus stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “You’re doing great, sweetie.”

Melania laughed and squeezed her hand. “You’re doing so much better than I did. I was practically drugged with the pain potions with Orion, and I was _still_ a screaming and sobbing mess the entire time.”

Eden laughed softly and nuzzled Abyss when he licked the corner of her jaw. Another contraction hit, and she clutched onto Tom’s hand like her life depended on it.

When the contraction ended, Noah stood smiling at the end of her bed, a pink potion in his hand. “Are you ready to meet your sons?” he asked.

Absolutely.

“What does that potion do?” she panted.

“It’ll make sure that both twins come out headfirst and one at a time. It will also take an edge off of the pain and make the delivery easier.”

Another contraction hit her before she could say anything. A high-pitched whine left her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t see it, but a look of pure nausea passed everyone’s faces except for Tom and Noah—they both looked at her with compassionate respect and love.

“Give me that _damn_ potion,” she whispered hoarsely after the contraction finished, “I want to hold my babies.”

Tom was handed the potion, and he tipped the raspberry flavored liquid down her throat. The rest of the labor was a blur after it kicked in two contractions later. She still felt them—she still felt _everything_ that was going on—but she could actually understand the words that Tom spoke and was aware when Herpo and Eleonora arrived.

“Where’s my Godson? What? He’s not here yet? Pah! Push faster, girl!”

She couldn’t remember what she had said to him, but she did remember him cackling as he and Eleonora were led out to wait with the rest of their family.

By the time the potion wore off with a blinding white pain expanding from her nether regions to the rest of her body, there was the beautiful sound of two screaming _babies_.

Tom cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips as tears streamed down both of their faces. “You did it, Eden.”

The unbearable burning in her crotch ceased with a few spells from Noah’s wand, and the wizard gently grabbed the baby wrapped in a darker blue baby from the medi-wizard who had cleaned him and placed him on her chest. “The eldest,” he murmured.

She stroked the cheek of her screaming first-born son and held back the sobs as she told him his name. She felt her magic wrap tightly around him and bury deep inside of him as his small, undeveloped Core accepted the name and made it his own. “Marvolo Arcturus Riddle.”

Herpo was going to be forever offended that they hadn’t named Marvolo after him.

He was gently pulled away from her by Tom, and before she could protest—Tom’s magic tightened around hers in comfort as she began to whine—their second son was placed in her arms by Noah, a look of awe on his face as he stroked his cheek.

Her son’s sobbing face peaked out from a lighter blue blanket, and she stroked his cheek. His sobs quieted, and she cooed softly at him as she wiped a tear away. Her own tears finally fell as she told him his name. Her magic wrapped tightly around him and buried deep inside of him as his undeveloped Core accepted the name and made it his own. “Caspian Jupiter Riddle.”

Herpo was _also_ going to be eternally offended that Caspian wasn’t named after him.

“Caspian,” Noah whispered to himself with a silly grin on his face as he stared down at his Godson.

Tom placed Marvolo in her arms and gently moved her and laid next to her as Caspian began to smack his small mouth. Noah pressed a kiss to her head and stroked a hand over Caspian’s before he left the room with the medi-wizard—leaving only the medi-witch in the room with them—and Tom helped her expose a breast for her son. Marvolo was adjusted so his little head pressed against the right side of her neck.

“I love you, Eden,” Tom murmured. “I love our sons. Our little family.” He pressed a kiss against Marvolo’s head and then Eden’s cheek. She nuzzled the crown of her head into his neck and breathed deeply.

“My three boys,” she whispered as Caspian latched on and began to suck as Marvolo began to smack his mouth against her neck. Tom once again helped her by removing her gown completely and draping it on top of her and adjusting Marvolo so he could latch on and feed if he was truly ready.

“I’m so proud of you,” Tom murmured against her hair with a kiss.

“I’m so tired,” she groaned.

He laughed. “It’s to be expected. You just gave _birth_ to our children. Two humans.” He reached around her and stroked the backs of their sons. His hand was massive compared to their tiny bodies.

“I did, didn’t I?” she bragged drowsily.

Her husband laughed as Abyss and Echo crept out from their hiding place, tangled in the damp hair at the nape of her neck on the left side.

“**They are smaller than expected**,” Abyss commented as he sniffed first Caspian and then Marvolo. He sat down between the two of them and puffed out his chest to look as fierce as any creature could that stood three inches tall. “**I will protect them with my life**.”

Echo landed on Caspian’s back, padded around for a moment before she hopped over to Marvolo’s back and did the same. “**I will too**,” she commented lightly before she curled into a small ball next to Abyss on her chest.

Tears unbidden sprung to her eyes as she stared at her familiars. She had known they were loyal to her, and by some extension Tom—especially Abyss—but she hadn’t thought they’d take so quickly to her sons. She thought there would be a lot of pleading, begging, and feeding them magic until they were nearly catatonic before they’d play nice with them.

The fact that they were already willing to die for her children warmed a place deep in her soul and brought tears to her eyes. She pushed large amounts of magic into both familiars, both curled into purring balls on her chest.

“What do you think Nagini and Thorin will think of them?” she asked after a moment, her eyes began to drift shut.

“They’ll protect them the same,” he assured. She forced them open, and Tom pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Sleep, my beloved.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he silenced her when he tilted her head up and kissed her. “Sleep,” he ordered.

She closed her eyes and nuzzled into her husband’s hold. Just as she started to drift off, the door slammed open and Herpo in all of his sarcastic glory entered the room with the rest of their family.

While the world wasn’t perfect, everything felt pretty perfect in that moment.

* * *

** _Sunday, September 1, 1991_ **

** _ Hogwarts, Great Hall_ **

Eden obsessively tugged at the locket around her neck and nibbled on her bottom lip.

A large hand curled over her right thigh and her bouncing foot was stilled as Tom pressed down gently, but firmly. “I know you’re excited,” he murmured as he draped his left arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. The older students in the hall began to murmur excitedly and giggle and squeal when he pressed a kiss to her cheek as his right hand continued to rub soothing circles on her thigh. “However,” he continued, his lips brushing her ear, “I don’t think you should light the hall on _fire_ with it.”

“I’m trying to control it—”

“I know,” he soothed gently, “let me help.”

She turned her face and kissed him softly. “Alright.” He kissed her again, her bottom lip caught between both of his, before he pulled away and they became the respectable Hogwarts professors they had been for the last thirty years.

Tom had become the Defensive and Offensive Magic—the replacement for Defense Against the Dark Arts class—shortly after she had become pregnant with their fourth child, Levi Comet. He had worked things out with Horace—the Headmaster at the time—so he could sleep at home during the week, work from home on Saturdays with a nifty parchment he had created inspired by the diary—he held detentions once a month at school—and have Sundays off completely.

Eden became the Dueling Instructor for third years and up in 1964 two years after their sixth and seventh children, twins, Atlas Luca and Aelia Jade—named in an obscure sense after Ambrosia and Hermione (because in some universe at one time or another, there was a child born of Hermione Granger named after her)—were born.

It was difficult leaving the toddlers and younger children with a nanny elf while she taught, but Horace was kind and allowed her to work from home with the parchment that allowed her to communicate in real time with her students who wanted theoretical help after her final class was finished for the day.

Now that all of her children were adults, she and Tom lived nearly full time at Hogwarts. They spent the weekends that they weren’t holding detentions—which, to be honest weren’t many—at Slytherin Castle where their family would gather for the weekend, both the families that their children had made, and the family that had taken her in and raised her.

Tom took her right hand in his left and drug a finger down the palm of it and laced their fingers together and pressed his bleeding palm against hers. Immediately, a wave of serenity washed over her, and while the excitement that had been bouncing off of the walls for the last three days while they had been prepping the school was still there, it was no longer _literally bouncing off of the walls_.

Mariea Cassiopeia, her third child, and eldest daughter ran into the great hall, her robes hastily thrown on and her hair tied into a tragic bun. She was the Advanced Honors Ancient Runes professor and taught _only_ six and seventh years who got O+ on their OWLs. She had a horrible habit of being late to most things due to her research, and it was only further nurtured by her husband Lyonel, the Advanced Ancient Runes professor who taught fifth years and up who qualified with their scores.

She flushed at the laughter and light teasing from the Ravenclaw table—whom many of the students shared her habit—and took her seat to Tom’s right.

“I love you, Mariea,” Eden spoke across her husband to her daughter.

“Love you, too, mum,” she mumbled as Tom leaned over and kissed her head—it was often strange for the students to realize that she and Tom were her parents due to her physically looking older than the two of them, but after the older students explained things to them, everything made sense, and they often looked on the Riddle family in awe.

A hand pressed against her left shoulder before a kiss was pressed to the top of her head. She turned and smiled brightly at Siria. The girl had been born nine months after Marvolo and Caspian and unfortunately, was Orion and Walpurga’s only child.

“Hello, darling,” Eden smiled at her Goddaughter. “Are the first years in the wing?”

“Yes, Aunt Eden,” she dropped in the chair to her left and waved at the Gryffindor students who had begun violently cheering and shouting her name. She was the Advanced Transfiguration Teacher—in her case that meant she only taught sixth and seventh years who got O’s on their OWLs as some of the main focus in her class was human transfiguration—and was the Head of Gryffindor.

She was every bit of the Sirius she had known in her original timeline with the only difference being her gender, which _never_ stopped her from doing _anything_. Eden loved her just the same even though the Bond that they had was different than the original Bond that they had.

“I think it needs to be expanded,” she said after a minute. “It took _three of us_—With all of the Black and Riddles beginning to come in—” she cut off with a choked whistle. “How many of us are there going to be here this year?” she asked, fake horror in her voice.

Tom laughed.

“22 kids entering Hogwarts this year, 6 already attending, and with 7 of us teaching, that makes it 33 Blacks or Riddles now.”

Siria laughed. “Jake is going to love that.” Jake was Siria’s husband of nearly 10 years and was four years older than her—unlike Mariea who had been five years older than Sirius. They still hadn’t had any children, but the two were okay with that as they weren’t in any rush expand, happy with their little bubble of love.

Eden grabbed Siria’s hand and squeezed it gently. The large, heavy doors opened and 394 eleven-year-olds walked in led in by her daughter, Persephone Hydra, and her husband, Severus Snape.

The large group stopped in front of the Head Table that was filled with 57 teachers, and Eden’s eyes were immediately drawn to ten students whom she still loved dearly even after all of the time that had passed since she had last seen them. Her eyes were drawn to her once-brother—still named Leif—who stood with a brother whose name she didn’t know—it appeared that twins were just meant to be for James and Lily Potter.

She smiled at her 7 grandchildren who stood bouncing on their toes, and her 15 great nieces and nephews also jumping around with their cousins.

Tom’s magic washed over their hands, concealing the blood, and he stood tightening his hold as the hall fell silent. “Welcome,” he started, his voice smooth like honey, “to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He shifted slightly and the Philosopher’s Stone glinted from the ornate chain it hung from around his neck. “My name is Tom Riddle, and I am your Headmaster. We welcome you with open arms.”

Green, blue, red, and yellow sparks flew around the room before they formed the mascots of the four Houses and stood above each table they represented, almost like guardians. “I won’t say much, as we have much to do, but know this: family is _always_ found where you least expect it.”

Eden’s magic throbbed, and little dragon flames of Frostfyre danced around the new students—mainly the ten members of her original of her found family—before she and her husband were able to quell her excitement.

The stool and ancient Hat were brought out, and she watched with tears in her eyes as her family and friends were Sorted

The world they had created still wasn’t perfect.

There were still Light witches and wizards who abhorred Dark Magic and anything to do with it. While it was far better than it had been originally, it still wasn’t what they wanted. They still hadn’t reached their end goal.

The Promise still hadn’t been fulfilled.

They wanted freedom, not only for Dark type Magic and its practitioners, but for _all_ of Magic. They wanted peace, happiness, and to be free from muggle influence.

When the last of her friends were called, and she accidently met the eyes of Hermione, a newly Sorted Slytherin, and saw a burning flame deep within them, and then the eyes of Ambrosia who sat next to her, she knew then and there, that perfection was finally in their grasp, and her husband knew it too.

Tom reached around her after they finally finished dessert and turned her face towards his. She stared into his face that hadn’t aged from the day he had stopped taking his aging potions when she turned 21 and made her own Horcrux and smiled. She stroked his jaw, and he kissed her palm.

(the students in the background _squealed_)

“Are you pleased?” he asked softly.

The two ignored the excited din that grew louder and louder as more and more students noticed their display of affection—for some strange reason, it was a favorite thing of theirs.

“Beyond words.”

He kissed her softly. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“**_For eternity_**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I kind of feel like I lost a best friend. I legit started crying when I finished this. I hope you guys enjoyed the journey as much as did.
> 
> To be honest, I know the ending was kind of sudden, but I was starting to resent everything and anything that had to do with this, so I needed to end it before I broke things.
> 
> Stay happy, safe, and healthy, and I hope to see you around sometime soonish.
> 
> I love you all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What Do You Fear? (Tom Riddle x OC)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978420) by [CrystalAris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalAris/pseuds/CrystalAris)


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